A Normal Week

If you have come here for spiritual support, this is probably not the week. Sorry. Ever have one of those weeks when you check that you are not a week's holiday missing? It has been a week severely lacking in glittering celebrity moments and more than once I have found myself thinking "I bet Liberace never had to live like this." I think we've all been there.
This week fruit of Womb Two set off for school on Tuesday only for me to receive a call from the school nurse about an hour later. "She doesn't feel well and she says she feels sick. Actually she is a strange colour." I'm at work with no transport but it's ok because I can phone her dad. Except HE HASN'T TURNED HIS MOBILE ON - AGAIN. Head of House doesn't really like mobile phones - that's ok. Far be it from me to lecture anyone about living in this century rather than one where people people wear crinolines, play the piano as their only entertainment and Colin Firth dives into pools. He is entitled to his foibles. We all are. EXCEPT WHEN IT INCONVENIENCES ME! So, after using my Hiawatha-like skills to track him down, he collects the girl and she clearly isn't well. Apparently, we later find out that half the population of the school is evacuating their lunches and the school nurse is getting a bit wobbly with it all.  About this time I begin to feel a bit head-achy and nauseous. It's going to be a long week.
Trip to see The Cloonster in Ides of March is derailed for this week at least. Ah well. Head of House has been on nights all week which is a bit weird. I have this fantasy of going to bed alone in posh PJs with hot chocolate (don't know why - don't really like it) and a copy of Shakespeare. In reality, I am woken at 2.30am as mobile buzzes. (Email from Next  2.30am- what is that about?) I have taken mobile upstairs for extra alarm insurance in case mine doesn't work. When I wake up - I momentarily think that, as I always expected would one day happen, I am being attacked by giant spider which is sitting on my face. Turns out to be the Georgette Heyer Murder Mystery I was reading when I fell asleep.As I said. A Normal but somehow Long week.
Fruit of Womb One is settling in  in York. I have to tell you that usually I ask permission to share things my kids do with you as it's only fair I think. However- he's not here so "le titty - i'll est tough" as they sometimes say in France. So the church he is going to in York is St Michael Le Belfry. Very famous, Spirit led, student friendly church. One of the things it is most famous for is being so close to York Minster - about five yards away. All I'll say is that two of them couldn't find it - after having visited once already.  York Minster. I'm fairly certain you can see it from space!! Young people eh?

God's Invisibles

Autumn is a bit spectacular here at the moment. Warm and sunny. I have given in and started making a Christmas List. A bit. Not pressies - just all the stuff I have to do. Few more visitors than we are used to this year. Looking forward to it but I have to bear in mind that the takeaway won't be open if I have cooking disasters so must plan ahead (for once). Head of House is looking at Master Plan to make dining table bigger by putting battons on big piece of wood to put over our table. He can be a bit strange when he's been on nights.
I have no idea what is behind this. Maybe too much Cadbury's Wholenut but I have been thinking about Uncle George. When I first became a Christian, Uncle George was one of the first Christians I met. He wasn't really anyone's uncle. I don't think he had much in the way of family but everyone called him Uncle George. In the olden days, when you first became a Christian it was practically compulsory to be route marched into the children's work at church and told to help. I remember I was fifteen and instructed to be a teacher in "Sunshine Corner" (You young Christians these days - you don't know you are born I am telling you) For those of you who are not well versed in the ways of "Sunshine Corner" let me explain. Well I can't really. I have a vague memory of about twenty smallish children as I led them around a pile of chairs telling them about the Battle of Jerico. I do remember that, at the appointed time, we shouted for all the children to bang drums and tambourines and blow into their recorders as loudly as they could. At this point my friend pulled on a string attached to a chair in the middle of the pile and - well - the walls came tumbling down as they say. It was a lot more spectacular than we had imagined to be honest but I don't think any children were actually hospitalised. I'm almost certain about that. Probably. Don't try it at home.
Uncle George played the accordian for Sunshine Corner. Sing along now

"Sunshine Corner - oh its jolly fine.

It's for children under ninety nine

All are welcome - seats are given free.

Lichfield(Insert name of any place in the whole world!) Sunshine Corner is the place for me"

Simpler times....

So George would come to Sunshine Corner every Tuesday evening. He would be wearing a suit that had seen better days - his half mast pants a-flapping as he rushed in. His shirt would be a bit grubby and when you are fifteen and too cool for school - you barely gave someone like George a second thought. Yet George never missed. He was totally reliable, even though, to be honest, he didn't like children that much. When it came to our National Conference every year George would give people free lifts to Minehead in his Reliant Robin. Driving wasn't a particular strong point as I remember. They used to say that George had never been in an accident but that he had seen hundreds! But, if George said he would be there, he would be there. I think we all thought he was a bit odd. Not sinister odd, just George. The truth is that a lot of what happened in church could not have happened without him. But I don't think I ever saw him up front in church or leading anything. He just got on with it because he loved God. He was as invisible as wallpaper.

I was also reminded of another story that CS Lewis tells. If you are a CS Lewis expert and I haven't got this right, please accept my apologies in advance.

A man dies and goes to heaven. As he is being shown around by an angel. (And on your left is St Paul's mansion. You are welcome of course but call first - he can get very busy of an evening. That sort of thing) Suddenly they have to step back as a procession is coming towards them. The man can see that the lady in the procession must be a woman of great honour as the angels are making a great fuss of her. He bows his head in respect as she passes but can't resist winking one eye open to see who this great lady is. To his surprise he sees that he recognises her. Not as a great prophet or miracle worker but as a lady from his own church that he barely knew. She was, as he remarked to the angel, not a particularly important person. Why was she being honoured so?

The angel shrugged with some impatience and explained.

"You forget, God's standards are not the same as the world's standards. He measures things completely differently. She may not have torn up any trees in your judgement. Never got on the telly, never spoke at a conference, never sang on X Factor. Yet she lived a quiet life of kindness, servanthood and faithfulness. God will never overlook such things."

Sometimes, when Bette Midler is singing "From a Distance" and is bellowing

"GOD IS WATCHING! GOD IS WATCHING US FROM A DISTANCE!"

it can seem a little intimitating I know.

However, if you are feeling a little small, a little bit ignored as you go about your life and as you do your best. It can be a comfort to realise that God watches. He appreciates and He doesn't miss anything - not like the rest of us do sometimes. So be thou comforted as it proabably says in some translation somewhere. Have a biscuit and a cup of tea and a laugh at Kitty (as it almost certainly doesn't say in ANY translation) You are loved and appreciated.

Wet

Blimey - I'm not saying it's been raining a lot round here but some bloke with a big boat is trying to coax Morecambe and Lucy on board. It's been half term all week here so daughter has been able to snuggle down every morning while shouting vague promises about finishing her essay on "The Crucible" under her door. We, as the breadwinners have been forced out into the rain every morning  - in my case only to find that the Community Transport users of Plymouth have looked out of the window and decided - "I don't think so thank you" - phoned us up, cancelled and gone back to their one bar fire, Flog It! and a nice cup of tea - as any sensible person would.
There was one particularly memorable morning when I had to walk the hounds before work. It was like God was tipping out celestial buckets over us and, you may not have realised this but it is a physical impossibility to walk two lunatic jacks while carrying a brolly and two poo bags. (The thing is, you can't hold the poo bags in the lead hand because they get tangled so you have to hold them in the brolly hand which means they are right under your nose and I am usually a bit delicate  for that kind of smell first thing)This meant some kind of hat was called for. So, creeping into daughter's room (not too quietly, why should she get all the lie ins?) I pinch a beret. I slam it on and launch myself into walk.
One of the many distressing things that happens when you get older is that you begin to look more and more ridiculous in young people's clothes. In this beret - daughter looks like something Johnny Depp would be chasing. I look like someone he would be chasing off his property. I don't suppose the parka hood pulled over it helped. Oh well, at least I kept my hair dry. It doesn't really matter what I look like as long as I am warm as my Auntie Vera used to say. I can't believe I just wrote that - she was a lady who had a drawer full of rain hats! I promised myself this would never happen to me!
My monthly magazine arrived today and it is the Christmas one. It has caused me to reflect how different my life (i.e. a REAL life) is from their target audience. Or maybe it's just me.

1.  I read that Vintage is again very hot this year, especially when it comes to coats. This is good for me as it means that I can get last year's coat out of the cupboard under the stairs and after a bit of a brush down I will be hot to trot fashion wise.
2. Eye make up will be smokey again so we will be needing new grey and black tones, mascara that can actually give me 4-D lashes and some shimmering highlighter to offset the greys. Excellent. In response to this, I will be giving my eyeliner (free with daughter's magazine - think it was called "Smack" or something) a bit of a sharpen.
3. It's time to look at Christmas fashion. There was a nice article on dresses for the Christmas party and a smart casual look so "you can shine as brightly as any decoration" on Christmas Day. I may well need to shell out on some big knickers to wear under my faithful LBD. As for Christmas Day, trust me, the combination of a steamy kitchen, a mother examining the stuffing for onions - she can't do onions (Mum- it HAS got onions - it's very difficult to make without - you said you would do without stuffing - I KNOW it's not quite the same!) and various teenagers and dogs etc will make me quite shiny enough thank you.
4. Christmas table decorations will be very natural and green this year. This may well mean another raid on the local graveyard to steal consecrated ivy. Is it wrong to steal from God's Garden? Does it not let us off that we are celebrating something lovely? I can't see God minding - he loves me.

Just remember sooo much of this stuff is nonsense. I love my magazine - it has nice stories and photos of celebrities buying wine gums but real people don't live like this. Do not let these people who are trying to sell things steal a second of your time making you worry that you are falling short of their ideal. (Breaking news - they are not kept awake by the fact that you and I may be a bit wrinkly, they are not really worried about you. They are, however thrilled skinny by the thought that you will put a £140 skin cream on your credit card) Real life is a gift - however messy. You should be dancin' - yeh. (apologies - Gibb Brothers)

Taking your time

Thanks very much to all those who have enquired about Eldest Fruit of Womb and his status in York. All seems to be settling down well now after a somewhat shaky start. Without going into details - just a few questions have to be asked I think about the drinking culture in Freshers' Week. Eldest FOW is no teetotaller but he found it all a bit full on.
However, it is much better now and he is especially enjoying the cut and thrust of political debate. I am hoping, however, that as study progresses debate will become more sophisticated. As far as I could make out, the last "debate" descended into something which more or less ended up with Eldest FOW shouting "Step Outside Posh Boy!" But I can't be sure. I wasn't there.
As for us who have been left here - the dogs keep looking out for him as you can see and Head of House and my good self feel a bit like one of those zombies you see on the telly who are dragging themselves around the place having an arm or a leg pulled off. Something is missing if you know what I mean. FOW 2 is missing the general jolliness of home life with a sibling but, I think, is secretly also enjoying watching the X Factor abuse free.
I think this is something that cannot be rushed. It's an important part of life and we can't expect to move to the next stage in life like the great Tommy Cooper - (Just like That! - I'm wasted here - I tell you)
I work full time and I'm a mum and a wife and a daughter and a Christian and a friend and a dog owner and, (if the mood takes me), a home maker as well as a writer and a walker and a reader and a film fan and a football fan (not so much today - 1-6? Are you on drugs?) Like you I suppose, I am always up for a short cut. Something to help me fit everything in but sometimes, things of quality need time - whether it's embroidering the Bayeux Tapestry or sitting and listening to a chum's problem.
Much as I would sometimes like to, I have learnt that I cannot short-cut my way through life if I want to create anything of value. Multi tasking is ok if you are talking about doing supermarket shopping while chatting to a mate about Nancy Del Whatsit in Strictly. It's not so good if you are talking about praying for something and only being able to fit any time alone with God when you are having a wee. Serious adjustments maybe called for there.
Much as I love doing this blog, I also know that in ten years time, it will probably be just static or something. If I want something more permanent, I have to find the time to slow down and create it with care. Because when we create something whether its a book, or a friendship, a lifestyle or a cushion cover, we want it to be worth something. We want it to be lovely and to enrich the lives of those who come into contact with it.
This film clip bit at the end is getting a bit regular now. Don't expect it every week! But this does illustrate so well what I am trying to say. This cake is not what you would call made from scratch. I think even her mother would say it's not the most appetising thing ever. If you are a particular fan of this American TV cook, please don't be offended. Apparently, this lady is the American Queen of the shortcut. Hmm. Cake Anyone?

Never forgetting..

It's all a bit religious here at Hargreaves' Towers this week so don't say I didn't warn you. If you don't fancy it don't worry. It's not been the easiest week as you can imagine. I won't dwell too much on how it's been for us to send away the Fruit of Womb One - you can probably work that out for yourselves. How people go on who send their children off to war, I just don't know. I don't suppose it's much like Downton Abbey where the bloke with the see-through eyes seems to get every weekend off the trenches to come home and do a bit of singing. Actually, that's not very fair of me because I don't watch it. I've seen a bit but the adverts were doing my head in.
I have been thinking about the way we feel about our children. The way they are always in our thoughts and prayers. And then I was thinking that that is how we say God feels about us because he is our Father. But I don't think we act that way. I have to tell you that I spend too much time thinking that God will get bored of my continual moaning and lack of anything constructive to offer and that he will go and find someone more interesting. Billy Graham or Cliff or someone.
It's only when I think about how I feel about my own kids. How they are constantly in my thoughts, how all I have is theirs and how ridiculously proud I am of them. Then maybe - just maybe, I begin to get a flavour of how God feels about me. Not everyone can relate to this of course and people's relationships with loved ones don't always mirror what God would like it to. But sometimes we really need to get hold of how God feels about us and how we are never far from his thoughts.
Some time ago Head of House and myself were really needing an answer to prayer. We decided that we would fast one day a week until God answered. Nothing happened. Not a sausage. Then reading Bill Hybels book - "Too Busy Not to Pray" I noticed the way he approached his prayer. He said (to paraphrase) How insulted would you feel as a parent if, when your child asked you for something, they felt that they had to go away and punish themselves in some way to get your attention?  Either you are on his heart or you are not. We have to get on board with the fact that God is constantly attentive, constantly in touch and constantly tender hearted towards us. We may struggle with this, either because of our life experience or perhaps in some weird way because we feel it diminishes God but what we feel about it isn't so important. It's how God is. We can enjoy it and respond to this offer of undeserved favour or we can get the flagellator and the barbed wire knickers out  and make ourselves suffer in an attempt to curry God's favour. (N.B this is not having a go at fasting - just at fasting as a way of repositioning ourselves as "worthy" Christians - Don't write in)
It is a constant struggle for me to get past what God gives me and what I have actually deserved. Sometimes circumstances make us all feel that God has taken a package tour to someone more deserving where he can commune with someone who has managed to move mountains and harvest white fields and all that sort of thing. Trouble is God says otherwise.

Isaiah 49:14-16

 ¹⁴ But Zion said, “The LORD has forsaken me,
   the Lord has forgotten me.”
 ¹⁵ “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
   and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget,
   I will not forget you!
¹⁶ See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
   your walls are ever before me

I just wanted to show you something about rembering. This is Christian the lion. Christian was bought by two blokes from harrods of all places in the 60s. Obvs he became too big and was returned to Africa. When the chaps went back to see him the following scene took place. If you have tears - prepare to shed them...
There is something about care and love that creates even the most unlikely bonds.