It's not a voice I recognise

So "Christian Voice" tweeted this. I hesitated to give this any publicity but I think I need to let anyone with a passing interest know that how stupid I think this is.

Where to start?

• What part of that sentence can you ever, ever imagine Jesus Tweeting?
• "Turning Gay"? Seriously? Who writes your tweets? Queen Victoria?
• When did positioning yourself as a "Christian Lobby group" give anyone the right to become an Internet troll - because that is what this is.
• You ain't lobbying for me mate. Not in my name. I'd be grateful if you could find another word than Christian to put in your title. You have brought the name into disrepute.
• How is this Christian? To grubbily rejoice in someone's failure?
• It's not even logical - apart from there being lots of gay medal winners in Team GB - why, for instance would God punish Tom Daley but reward Nicola Adams or the Richardson-Walshes in the Women's Hockey Team? It's just embarrassing.
• Tom Daley had a bad day and the correct Christian response is that of the Samaritan who bears up and heals wounds. 

Your sir or madam are a buffoon and should be issuing a profuse apology.  *Blogger smacks Tweeter on each cheek with kid glove and turns on her heels in disgust*

Hoots Mon!

There's a moose loose aboot this hoose!

For readers of a younger disposition - no one needs to write to Nicola Sturgeon and complain about any anti-Scottish casual racism. It's an old song by Lord Rockingham's XI and if you are that bothered you can Google it. I am getting off the subject which is that there is - a moose - loose - in this house. We have a fireplace in our bedroom. We never use it but the chimney is open and we were in bed reading when we heard a noise in the chimney. I thought it might be soot but I looked right to see something small and brown scurrying from the fireplace under the wardrobe. Arrrgh!
It had obviously fallen down the chimney. It's not so much the mouse itself - it's the unexpected skittering that does your head in. HOH was dispatched to find it while I did an excellent impression of the maid from the Tom and Jerry cartoons - refusing to move from the bed.

HOH   "What do I do if I find it?"
Me      "No idea - your problem."

I am then dispatched to kitchen to bring back something "Useful". I return with a brush, a torch and Morecambe - our Jack Russell. The torch proves to be by far the most useful. The brush only provokes "Brilliant - just what we need - something to do a little light sweeping" sarcasm. The dog is excited at being invited upstairs at night and promptly settles down on my pillow. He doesn't seem to be picking up any mouse vibes. HOH uses the torch to look at the back of the wardrobe and sees a tiny little mouse with his head down seemingly waiting for a hammer to fall. HOH is immediately in love with small creature, replaces wardrobe carefully and announces that he is going to bed. Dog is returned to his cage and is not happy about it. Only option that I am left with is to go to bed - especially as HOH has turned off the light and I am left standing on the bed in total darkness. 
So the tiny, tiny mouse is still wild and free somewhere. It looked like an outside mouse to us so I am hoping it has succumbed to the call of the wild and gone back outside. 
As for our resident humane mouse catcher. He, as you can see, remains unconcerned.

Here

I'm not entirely sure how I have the nerve to just turn up here and start talking again. If you have all gone away to pastures new, I really would understand. It's not as if I have a terrific excuse. No deaths or sinister diseases. No great life changes. I was just exhausted. Not from blogging - it's hardly the most exacting thing in the world - at least the way I do it, it isn't. Just life seemed to catch up with me in lots of different ways and I sincerely couldn't think of one single bright or even not completely dim thing to say to you. So I didn't. Didn't say anything. So sorry about that. Now, however, I am well into a much needed staycation and am feeling much better. Just not going anywhere has done me a power of good. (Well, we went to London and I will chat about that at a later date)

I have tidied the blog up a bit and updated some photos. I really couldn't expect everyone to keep staring at that photo from my brother's civil ceremony which is now very old indeed. However, when you only take a flattering photo once every ten years - you like to stick with what you have. I have been writing a bit away from the blog and am putting some more work into that. I have lots of things on my mental plate at the moment. I don't ever want to feel that tired again and am looking at how to slow down - physically, mentally, spiritually. I am also doing some of your actual musing on my spiritual life  - who I am as a Christian, where my church fits in - indeed where I fit in, in my church. We are neither of us encumbered by needing to attend a church with a good youth group anymore and I am not sure if I need somewhere else. We have made no decisions - we are praying. Nothing exciting may happen.

I have been particularly struck by a post by Pen Wilcock about a retreat she was leading. I couldn't attend it unfortunately - work made the weekend just un-doable but the subject matter had been buzzing round my head. She talked about women of a certain age. I suppose mid-fifties or so. we may have raised our kids, have an elderly parent to er...parent but are still working and don't feel as if it is done for us at all. Yet - what is there to do? What if you get to that age and still aren't sure you have found your place? Is it too late? I'm sure it can't be. Sometimes, I am excited by endless optimism about God's plans and my possibilities. At other times I feel he has moved on to a younger model - one who is a bit more obedient and doesn't ask stupid questions. So this is where I am - a bit. I cannot possibly take up any more of your time. I shall return - probably sooner than you would prefer - but until then I leave you with the photo of a ten year old me above. That is the smile of someone who was choosing to value hope over expectation and I will be working tirelessly to return to that way of thinking ASAP

A Week of Life

In the absence of any life changing insights or holidays/conferences/outings with adoring friends to impress you with, I am left with just a few events (if you could call them that) to share with you. I have just finished watching the Men's Wimbledon Final and am pleased to report that Andy Murray murdered it. Some people are not so keen on Andy Murray. I am very suspicious of people who don't like Andy Murray. I have been very keen on him since I watched that documentary where he informed us all through his tears that he really wanted to give the people of Dunblane something nice after everything they had been though. This marks him out to me as someone who has his priorities sorted. I also like his wife's hair very much. Last week, I had to listen while an old person informed us all at great length that she couldn't stand him because he is so arrogant. As far as I know her interactions with Andy Murray have been limited to say the least but she still feels that she can form an opinion. Old people are weird sometimes. I have showed great forbearance and am only responding by printing up a huge poster of him with the Wimbledon trophy and pinning it to the front of my computer - rather than to an old lady's face. 
I went to a garden party which was marked by light rain, possibly the best coffee cake I have ever eaten and a the presence of a smoothie bike. This astonishing piece of technology involves a glass jug,filled with various bits of fruit and ice, on the back of a push bike. Then a willing victim pedals like mad for what seemed quite a long time which made some blades work which, in turn, made a smoothie. It was all done so enthusiastically that it seemed churlish to point out that a Nutri-Bullet could have done it in five seconds but then, I never was very good at party games.
On Thursday, I took the minutes at a church meeting. It is only mildly concerning that, at the moment, I am unable to find the note book I wrote in because we are decorating in the back room and nothing is where it should be.This is very unusual for me. I am usually extremely organised when it comes to other people's things. It is only my own life that is a complete shambles. I expect it will turn up. Oh and did I mention that a lot of stuff has gone into a confidential waste bag for shredding? How do you think they will feel about holding the meeting again?
Took aged parent to Aldi on Friday. All went well. Quite quiet actually. This may or may not have anything to do with her announcing to the world in general that "her bowels were smashing now and she can really recommend that newest laxative." We are all very pleased for you, the people seemed to say. Old people are really weird sometimes. 

July Reads

This is the July reading plan. As usual, only a couple are bought new because I am not made of money. Some are charity shop finds and some are gifts etc. I have started already and some are already read.

Henry Winter. 50 Years of Hurt. I love a football book and Henry Winter is one of the finest football writers. He talks a lot of sense about the the England football set up and so the FA will take no notice of him at all.

Marian Keyes. The Mystery of Mercy Close. I bought this because I have seen Marian Keyes on lots of things and I follow her on Twitter and she seems really nice and funny. This is classic Lite Lit or whatever the politically correct term is which I suspect is a lot harder to produce than it seems. She is very good at page turning stories and the stuff about depression is very vivid - I suppose because she knows what she is talking about. I raced through it.

Jenny Colgan. Little Shop of Happy Ever After. I saw this recommended on the Women Alive Book Club. It is bona-fide wish fulfillment. Bookish Girl gets made redundant from Library. Bookish Girl buys big van in Scotland and makes new and entirely plausible career selling books out of back of van. Bookish girl is suddenly wildly attractive to local brooding laird type.  Come On! You know you love it.

To read....

Elizabeth Goudge. The Scent of Water. Again recommended by Woman Alive Book Club. Bought it because I read a sample chapter and couldn't put it down. We shall see.

Eve Garnett. The Family from One End Street. This is a children's book. I love a children's book and this one is full of social conscience and love and family apparently.

Penelope Wilcock. A Day and a Life. I have loved every book in this series about a community of monks. And if you are weighing that up and thinking it will be boring - then kindly leave the blog - we have nothing to say to one another. The books are full of character and love and I have cried several times reading them. This is supposedly the last in the series but because I am a master at avoiding any kind of bad news. I am doing what I usually do and ignoring the facts. Play to your strengths - that's what I say.

Tony Collins. Taking My God for a Walk. This is written by Pen Wilcock's husband - himself a distinguished publisher and my slightly squished logic says that if he likes her writing, then I will like his writing. Also I am quite interested in the idea of a pilgrimage and even more interested in a pilgrimage by someone who appears to be a normal person rather than someone in bare feet wearing a shroud.

Mountain bumping

It's all very well being positive. Positive is good - no-one wants to be moaned at all the time. Counting your blessings. That's good too. I'm all for it. Most of us are a lot better off than we realise and it does no-one any harm to stop and take stock and be grateful. 

Last week, I was re-reading a book that had got on my nerves a bit the first time. But, my multiple insecurities disorder always tells me that, in all circumstances, I am incorrect and everyone else is right so I tried it again. There is this bit in it where this woman realises that she is very ill - she's not dying or anything but she's definitely ill and she grasps the table whispering - with her very shallow, ailing breath. "Gratitude to God - at all times." Well she is either amazing or mentally unwell. I would be whispering "999. Please dial. Quick as you can" but I suppose I'm just self centred. 
We have to be honest I think. It is not great faith to keep saying that everything is top-notch when it quite clearly isn't. It is weird. 
In Britain at the moment lots of things are rubbish. We have no Prime Minister (well there's David Cameron but he's just thinking about retirement in Cornwall now.) There is no effective opposition party. (Unless you include a Labour leader who seems to be spending all his time with his arms and legs wrapped around the nearest chair leg shouting "I won't go and you can't make me.") All the Shadow Cabinet have resigned leaving just three people to run from room to room putting different hats on quickly depending on which department they are in charge of today. There's Nigel Farage. Lets just leave that one as it is. I just can't, to be frank. And this is all before we get to your actual Exit negotiations, casual racism, Nicola Sturgeon's steely glint and the England Football Team. And people keep standing up and saying "Don't worry. Everything is fine." Well it isn't is it? If you are a praying person - our nation could do with some now. I'm not very good at praying for England. I'm better with people I know and love. (Or people I don't love which I only tend to do because God is pestering me to.) But I love Great Britain. I am grateful to be from here. And it's not good at the moment. 
There's a bit in Matthew in the Bible where Jesus tells his disciples that with God they can tell a mountain to move and it will move. We take God seriously - amazing things happen. However, first you have to agree that there is a mountain. It's no good keep trudging forward and pretending it's not there - you will bump into it and have a nasty scrape on your nose. If life is awful. If something is wrong, we need to say so. Pretending is not exercising your faith, it's acting. It doesn't give God any credit either. Because it doesn't matter how bad it is - God can do something about it. We don't need to pretend that things are better than they are. God is not afraid of my problem. So we can admit it. Admit that it is a mess and we don't know how we can solve it. It's not just about national and international things - it's about you and me and the day to day. It's no good whistling a happy tune and getting on with it. Be honest with God - if necessary until snot comes down your nose. We should be counting our blessings by all means but we also need to say when it's rubbish, then pray when it's rubbish. That way, we get to see the mountain and get the privilege of seeing it move as well.
 “Because you’re not yet taking God seriously,” said Jesus. “The simple truth is that if you had a mere kernel of faith, a poppy seed, say, you would tell this mountain, ‘Move!’ and it would move. There is nothing you wouldn’t be able to tackle.” Matt 17 v 20

But in the end...

So it was Exit. We didn't see that coming at all. Even Farage changed his mind about three times on the night - defining the word "slippery". 

Anyway, time will tell I suppose. I have seen the accusations of racism and it's not really something I have some across. I just think some evil genius somewhere is congratulating him/herself on the way that people felt that the economic misery of their lives was down to the EU and not successive British Governments who have largely ignored the poor and the working class unless they were searching out people to press the demands of the austerity budget upon. 

Everything that has happened since has left me vaguely uncomfortable. I'm not very good with bad feeling. I'm not happy with people using that bad word about Boris Johnson or booing him as he got into his car. I don't really feel that this thing should be done again until we get a different result - no matter what the petitions say. So what to do? The future that people like Boris or Nigel envisage for us is not a future I am interested in. 

So maybe it is time to put our money where our mouth is. If we don't want to see refugees treated badly or even students or foreign workers - then we need to work to make sure that doesn't happen. If we want a kinder, less exclusive society, the what are we prepared to do to achieve it? And if we understand why the poor and the disabled and those who shop at food banks were so angry - how does that stir us into action?

Because in the end, it is all about the love. I watched Samantha Cameron watch her husband, going through agonies because she loves him. I thought it might be the first real positive emotion I had seen all the way through this rubbish.

I am unhappy and a bit scared. We have no idea how this will land and the people who were so keen on it haven't got the faintest idea either. But I'm a Christian in I'm asked to have faith. Not in a dodgy system or ideology but in a God who loves me. That will be my starting point I think.

Voting

So the Polling Day comes to an end and I think we are all glad to see the back of it. I have found the last few days quite wearying what with one thing and another. For what it's worth I came down as a remainer. I have not that enthused by the European set up but I don't like the idea of pulling up the drawbridge when it's all such a mess. Also, I just couldn't find myself voting on the same side as Nigel Farage and some of the people he attracts in the street are even more troubling. Lastly, for purely selfish reasons, I work in a charity, supported by some government money. I'm not convinced that if European money is withdrawn, national government will have little charities at the top of their lists for handouts. So there you are. I don't expect everyone to agree but let's keep it civil please. I did read on a Twitter feed that I usually like that I may well have voted in Armageddon. Well listen to me sweetheart. Stories this week have included

• A disgusting group of people breeding fox cubs to throw to hounds to train them to kill. On top of there being no words to describe how disgusting and savage this is - fox hunting is against the law here!!! What part of that sentence do you people think doesn't apply to you. Foxes are nuisances so shoot em. Don't chase them in some perverse game to make you feel excited. Get over yourself and be a bit normal.
• I have read of a secret meeting that Donald Trump has had with Evangelical Pastors. It was supposed to be a secret but half the people there seem to have had secret recorders on them which they have almost immediately handed over to the Internet. These are TOP Christian names. They have written books and preached and things. Donald Trump is a man who thinks racial profiling may be a viable option.
• Er Just this bloke......

Pastor prays for Orlando Survivors to Die (Link through for full story if you feel you can take it)

• And then this man got to take his children to their murdered mother's funeral.

Listen - never mind in or out of Europe - don't tell me you can't hear the clippy-cloppy of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse as well - a bit.

Ashamed

I have been avoiding the Internet a bit. I've also been avoiding debates around the referendum. I shouldn't do really. I have been a classic undecided and wanted as much information as possible. Immigration is an issue obviously as is the economy. The democratic process or otherwise in the EU is a concern for anyone. Yet I have been unable to engage as I should. Who was it do you think? Who was it that sat around a table and decided that it was going to be all bets off. That debate was going to be a nasty, untruthful thing that only the strong would survive? Who thought that we could then call this the cut and thrust of politics? I just haven't been able to bear it. People with expertise on economics or democracy have simply been shouted down by the other side. People have said whatever they wanted and no-one has been able to call them out on it. A lady in the hospital where HOH works said she was going to vote out because all the Syrian refugees are flooding the Health Service and making the queues long. She had seen it on the telly. Normal political thinking has been killed stone dead in this campaign. Partly because we really have no idea what will happen if we leave. This gap in our knowledge has been filled with nasty words and threats on both sides. It is, however, my personal belief, that any team with Nigel Farage on it must deal with the thing they let loose. I wonder how the people on the Exit Team - many of whom are thoughtful people with challenging things to say have made their personal peace with this poster?

I don't know why but whenever I look into these poor people's faces, I keep seeing Jesus there, because that is assuredly where he would be with the terrorised and the dispossessed. It was his natural home.

It has been horrible and there are people I will never, ever want to see on TV again. My personal belief is that, for some politicians, it has nothing to do with Europe but it is opportunism of the worst sort. A chance to clear out people standing in their way in their party, with no actual thought for the country and how things will affect it. 
And now an MP is dead. One of the brightest and the best. Killed at the hands of someone with longstanding mental illness who maybe, just maybe, picked up some of the underlying tone of what was going on. I don't know of course. I saw the BBC Political Head Person,  Laura Kuenssberg saying that this was the most vicious campaign that she had ever covered and that this death may well give people pause and make them think before they speak. I admire her optimism. I don't share it. 

Voluntary

Out and about on a school night which is very unusual. I was invited - along with a team of volunteers where I work, to the Plymouth Guild Volunteers Award night. (Actually that isn't precisely what it was called but there were so many words in the title that I have forgotten them but you get the gist.) I need to point out that I do not volunteer where I work but I did get an actual separate invitation  to the event as I am Head Honcho and all round Life and Soul of the Party.
We didn't win and I am not surprised as we were playing out of our league. I mean, our volunteers are awesome but we were up against people who had built entire national charities in their spare time just because it was their passion. One gentleman was just entering his fiftieth year of volunteering. I did a lot of clapping and a bit of snivelling and felt really humble and really pleased to be in the same room as these people.
It is probably my age but sometimes, when I see people pouting into phones all flippin day long or being apparently willing to do ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING to get on some poxy reality show, after which the vast majority of contestants will sink without trace after walking the red carpet at the Toenail Clipping of the Year Awards, I have been known to get a little downhearted. However, this week, I have listened to a ninety year old lady who started volunteering when she retired because "Well you can't just sit around doing nothing when people need you, can you?" I also watched a son accept his father's award - given posthumously - for tutoring a young man to two silver medals at the Special Olympics, even when unwell with the disease that killed him, and I am comforted, that mankind is not full of shallow, annoying, self centred twonks but there are amazing people doing amazing things, quietly, all the time. And it maketh me glad.

Big C Little C

For the newly diagnosed..

Nothing will ever be the same again. That much is certainly true. You will mourn and mourn long and hard for the life that you have lost and that is ok. But there are some things that I would like to tell you - some things that I discovered during my own journey. I have found these things to be true - for me anyway and I would hope that they may help you.

You have joined a club that you never wanted to be a member of. It has probably surprised you just how much is going on in cancer land - much of it positive and hopeful. But really you would rather not have known - not ever - not really. I remember a newly diagnosed friend whispering to me about how annoyed she was about some friends running marathons for her. Because although she knew they were being kind, she didn't want to be that person that they were being kind to. She didn't want to be there. She has since run several marathons herself, but at the beginning she couldn't, not then. She had to accept, as all the diagnosed and those who love them must, that life has changed forever. Yet this change, though so terrible (in the full sense of the word) has so much in it that will be good. You will see things with new eyes. Gratitude will surprise you when you least expect it. Nothing will ever be measured in the same way that it was before. Some of it, and this is difficult to believe now, will be better. It will be richer, stronger and more clear sighted. You will wonder why you ever worried about the things you worried about. You will be taken aback by the amount of love you feel for those you love. 

You will learn to be patient but you will be less accepting of religious rubbish. "All things work together for good" is not a trite throw-away line to be delivered by someone who is trying to say the right thing. It is a strong wall to hide behind in times of deep, deep trouble but it is not an easy wall to get to. To learn to say this and mean it comes out of experience, an experience of seeing amazing things happen in deep and dark circumstances. Take the kindness that people offer because you will gain strength from it. Kindness is a fruit of the Spirit and therefore a supernatural thing. Let people love you, bake pies, do your ironing, take your kids out. This will help practically and somehow, in some deep way, you will actually gain strength from it. 

Speaking of the supernatural, I would say, take all the treatment that is offered to you but do not forget the power of God. He does not play odds or percentages. My own survival percentages were very low - I would not get past five years. That was eighteen years ago. Learn to look for him in all your dark circumstances. Now is one of the toughest times. So much time being spent being called into doctors rooms to hear results or sitting on plastic chairs in hospital corridors or waiting in rooms for the curtain to be pulled back as the consultant sweeps in. You think that you will never laugh again - laugh properly - not for the benefit of calming someone who you love. You will though. It will take you by surprise probably. But you will feel joy again. A different kind of joy but joy nonetheless. 

The truth is that despite the worst possible diagnosis, there is still a lot of living to be done. It is a different life and everything in it will be measured differently, but it is still there to be lived and you must make sure that you continue to live it. 

Stratford

Last week we took ourselves off to Stratford Upon Avon for a few days. We had a lovely time. Really lovely. We went to Shakespeare's Birthplace which was excellent even though I can normally live without guides in period costume invading my personal space. I think this goes back to a very scary experience at Wigan Pier Museum which had a Victorian Schoolroom with a terrifying school teacher. It's a miracle anyone ever leant anything in Victorian England. Anyway, I digress. We also saw a play - as you do. We didn't do a Shakespeare. There were only tickets for Cymbeline, which I know less than nothing about, except that there are not a lot of laughs. So we decided against that and I was quite glad, Especially, when queueing in Lakeland, (Thanks for asking - I got a really nice stir-fry pan - with a lid. I love Lakeland) I heard a lady telling the cashier that she had been to see Cymbeline and that she came to see all the Shakespeares but that this one was bum numbing. (Don't blame me - her description) We went to see Cervantes' Don Quixote with David Threlfall and Rufus Hound. 

To my shame, I probably know less about this than I do about Cymbaline apart from some vague childhood memory of Peter O'Toole bellowing "To Dream The Impossible Dream" at a windmill. (This may not be an accurate memory) I'll be honest. It was a stellar night. One of the best nights at the theatre - ever. Funny, sad, inventive and not too long, which was important because our seats were sort of stools that we had to perch on like Andy Williams in those 60's TV specials. We had a lovely meal in the RSC as well to complete an excellent night.
On a tiny tiny low note. When you have done what we did in Stratford, I'm not sure what else there is to do. We spent a pleasant enough hour sitting by the river watching Spanish children trying to torture the swans and then crying when they got a nasty nip back. Entertaining enough but I'm not sure we would have been able to keep our kids happy if they had been there - especially as HOH and I seemed to bring the average age down to about eighty. I'm not expecting Vegas or the Grand Canyon in a balloon or anything but I think we more or less felt that we had covered anything when we left. Besides, we had to go. We had a date in Bristol on the way back. At IKEA - oh yes, oh yes. Told you it was an excellent break. 

Silver

Last week was our Silver Wedding Anniversary. I know I know, you can't believe it. Too young you cry and I can understand that. But twenty five years it is. We celebrated by clearing off to Stratford for a few days, leaving our dog and his separation issues with FOW2. I would just like to thank her here for coming home from Uni to do this for us and also to apologize for her having to be in the garden at 3am while said dog insisted on crying and seeing if he could see us coming back. Anyway, more of Stratford later in the week but I just thought I would leave you with a couple of photos of us all those years ago so you could see how mighty fine we were. And for all those chums on Facebook who said that we don't look any different - well we all know that's not true but don't think that it's not appreciated.

Dark

So Sally Brampton came to the end and walked into the sea to die. I found her writing on depression the most instructive and enlightening I had ever read. Many years ago a friend at work suffered the suicide of her brother. On the day she came back to work, because everyone felt so awkward, the manager put me and my friend in a corner of the bank to check a long list of regular payments. A job that would supposedly take a week. As we halfheartedly ticked away at boxes on forms that we weren't reading properly, we began to talk about her brother. She was upset at his selfishness and I completely understood that. She was dealing with the fallout; her  mother's anguish, her own terrible loss, the annoyance at how stigmatised she felt. I could do nothing but agree. How could he treat those he loved like this?
Years later I read a column by Sally Brampton on suicide and suddenly, I at least partly understood. 

Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don't kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive

People with this level of depression don't make an effort to kill themselves. They make an effort not to take their own lives. Every day that they are this depressed, they make a gargantuan effort to stay with those they love. For some, eventually, the effort gets too much. 

It is very dark out there sometimes for some people. I can get a bit frustrated at Christians who talk about God being light (which he is) and because God is everything therefore there is no room for dark - so let's all just cheer up a bit eh? 
But John talks about God being the light that breaks through the darkness which surely acknowledges that God knows that some people are having really hard times. 

If I am told to bring salt and light to people's lives, I have to first acknowledge that some people are in the dark. I'm supposed to bring light, not make them feel worse for being in the dark in the first place. Life bites people on the bum sometimes. Do I believe that God has the power to break through all this darkness and bring clarity and light? Yup I do. Does that diminish the reality of the suffering for the sick, the lost, the lonely? What do you think? 

May Books of the Month

Didn't know if you would be interested but these are on the reading plan for May. Bit late really, have already read a couple. I know there's a lot and I haven't won the pools or anything not that I'm a gambling woman you understand. A couple are car boot finds etc. Some are new though. I like a book.
The Jazz Files - been seeing this around on the ACW site for a while now. Sometimes Christian writers trying "a bit-Christian" fiction can be tricky I find but am liking the look of the subject matter and first couple of chapters are rollocking along nicely. 
Wonderful Weekend Book - I have already scooted through this. Lots of impractical ideas really about your weekends, but it is written in such an engaging way and the overriding principle about doing all your work in the week so you have a day for rest is excellent. Reminds me of another principle er...er oh yes Sabbath I think it's called.
You Are A Badass. Probably terrible self help book but find this kind of thing totally irresistible. Probably proof of some deep-seated personality defect (Also probably not that deep-seated.)
Diary of an Ordinary Woman. Have never read any Margaret Forster. Read her obituary and wanted to. So I bought this. It's not rocket science.
H is for Hawk. Everyone raves about it. 50p at the boot sale. What do you want? Jam on it?
Still Foolin' em. I love Billy Crystal ergo I will love a book full of his anecdotes with sleeve notes by Steve Martin and Robin Williams. Theirs was a gang I always wanted to join.

Just normal

There's been a lot of fuss about the weather. Suddenly, the sun has come out and everyone has gone a bit bonkers. Everyone in Plymouth is dressing like it's as hot as the Durrells. (I can live without seeing those bits of you young sir to be honest)  But, whisper it, round here it's not that warm. The sun has been out but there is still quite a stiff breeze up your whatsits if you stand still long enough. Street coffee culture can prove quite difficult when you have to put stones on everything to stop it flying away. Round here having lunch al fresco is even more difficult because you have to fend off stonking great seagulls all the time. It's not very Italian really. 
Now they tell us that the sun is finished and torrential rain will follow. I could have told you this was going to happen as HOH was out in the garden with his watering can over the weekend. Always a sure sign of inclement weather to follow. If you need to check the time when it will actually be tipping down in England - because of washing on lines or other considerations - I suggest about 10.15 am on Tuesday. That is the time I will be outside trying to take some publicity photos of recalcitrant old people getting on and off a shopping bus.You would think it would be a simple task. Experience tells me it will not. Old people tend to spend a lot of these shoots shouting "Oooh don't you include me in that, I look terrible" and then writing to their MP because they are not in the newspaper. 
For the Brits amongst us, I do hope you are doing ok with the referendum. I can't say I am. It's the way that every single sentence has to be followed by a single opposing sentence. So you hear someone say "Coming out of the EU will compromise our security" but this has to be followed - I think it is actually The Law now - by "The Out campaigners say it will definitely not compromise our security." so you are back where you started. Yesterday, we had a speech where our Dear Prime Minister warned us that Churchill would have wanted us to stay in to avoid World War and Pestilence. This was countered by Boris Johnson singing Ode To Joy in German for some reason - making us all very uncomfortable. I am trying to make an informed choice here!
I didn't watch the BAFTAs but was pleased to learn that Peter Kay (Probably the only living comedy genius now Victoria Wood has gone) and Wolf Hall (The best thing on the telly... er just ever) won big. I did watch the BBC Shakespeare Hollow Crown thing and enjoyed it very much. Then all the Shakespeare experts said it wasn't very good and the iambic pentameter was all wrong. No idea. I enjoyed it. (Struggled a bit with Sophie Okonado as a 15 year old schemer, because she is so luscious and because her husband actually DID look about fifteen.)
It's just very normal and a bit boring week here but best get back to it. I think I should be quite grateful for normal. At least I am not trying to visit a hospital in Allepo this week. God Bless Them.

Friend

I'm a bit worried about Facebook. Not the actual multi zillion dollar machine itself obviously just what happens on there sometimes. It's not just Facebook - it's a lot of Social Media generally. I think there is a fine line sometimes between sharing and bragging. Now I like a nosey and I love it when people put photos up of themselves and the things that they are doing. It's nice to leave a comment - especially when you live a long way from the person. I love wedding and birthday photos and pictures of new chubby babies. I love photos of days out to interesting places. It's generally a pleasing thing. I just think it's a bit weird sometimes when people put posts up like "Had a great time with my friends last night". Why wouldn't you say that to their face - as you left their house? Why wouldn't you turn round and say "Oooh thanks, I had a lovely time" and kiss them on both cheeks or give a cheery wave? Why do people go on and on about how great such and such a person is and say how close they are etc. Wouldn't you just say so? To them? When they are in the room? Why are you telling us? I sometimes wonder if people see posts like that about themselves and are surprised about how awesome they apparently are or just how epic the walk round the reservoir was when they just thought it was a nice hour out. 
The answer must be partly, I suppose, that the post is really for others to see - to show how popular we are are and what an amazing life we have. But then how is that received by those who don't have an amazing life? What about the lonely or the struggling or those who weren't included? How do they feel I wonder? Is it like being back at school and finding out that everyone had been out playing without you? What about preferring the weaker brother?
Then you get these little things that say things like "Share if your daughter is awesome" What difference does that make to anything? If I don't share does that mean that my daughter isn't awesome?  The weirdest one is "Share if you hate cancer." Seriously? Do they get many people who don't hate cancer? It's all very puzzling.  

Maybe it might be a bit more honest to post something like "Had..... round for a meal. Not a sparkling evening really. Was quite relieved when they left and I could catch up on Pointless." 

Age Related Musing

These are my favourite flowers - peonies. They seem to have a short season so I buy them much more often than I usually buy flowers because I luf them. They are blousy and bright and in your face. A bit like Bet Lynch behind the bar in Coronation Street. Then, after a couple of days they open really wide and the colour starts to change - fading down to a very pleasing creamy colour. 

Now they are not as barmaid-busty and the petals become much more delicate and sometimes bits fall off. They are still lovely though and perhaps even a bit more interesting than they were in the first flush of youth.
So I was thinking - do you think they remind you of people? We may not be as bright and bushy tailed as we were but maybe still interesting, still pretty in a sort of droopy kind of way and still pleasing to an experienced eye.I expect it's just me then.

God's Measuring

I have been very moved by a post by Ang over at Tracing Rainbows about her friend who has died. You can and should read it here for it is beautiful. It has also clicked into one of my passions and my strongest beliefs - that God measures lives in a totally different way to us. Everyone seems to be obsessed with the deaths of famous people at the moment. I was very emotional about the death of Victoria Wood, a woman I related to on lots of levels and whose wit and warmth I loved. However, she was a popular and successful woman and, if initially I was a bit put out by how many people had said that she was like their own personal best friend (when she was, quite obviously, mine) I did understand that she was well known and very good at what she did so I could forgive them.

But I believe that God measures success differently. He sees success in a quiet life of service devoted to him. By our measurement, a lady who didn't attain much academically or didn't marry or have children may even be seen as a failure - she didn't manage to have it all. But we are wrong. God looks at someone who gives their all, who is cheerful and courageous and who loves him and he says "well done". God sees people who live through appalling circumstances and find peace and contentment in solitude as overcomers. God sees those who always try to be kind even if it means sometimes allowing themselves to be ridden roughshod over as heroes of the faith. God sees a life devoted to justice and truth as a life well spent. In the wake of the Hillsborough verdicts, I have read newspapers saying that people have wasted their lives chasing justice but I think that the families will not see their lives as wasted. Of course they would rather have never had to do it but it was not a waste of a life to spend it chasing down the truth for their loved ones or, as you could put it, hungering and thirsting after righteousness. 

We need to learn to adjust our values to God's values. To see others and ourselves as God sees. This life tells us we need to be this or have that and it is often a distortion. God promotes real values not plastic ones and the amazing thing is that these are values with a promise attached to them. Do these things and be this person and you will find who you are supposed to be. I'm just going to put here the Message version of Matthew 5 because I love it - although I love lots of versions. It is a challenge to start to use God's measurer in life with the promise of what will come if we do. 

3 “You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

4 “You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

5 “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

6 “You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

7 “You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

8 “You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

9 “You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

10 “You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

They've Gone

Both FOWs have returned to their places of learning. We had a lovely week. Flippin' heck I ate a lot. FOW2 and my good self visited London. As it was her birthday treat she had stipulated no culture; as she was up to her eyeballs with all that at university. I was a bit worried about how seven hours in London would pan out if we could only go to Oxford Street. As it was, we made the train back with only fifteen minutes to spare. I must be more of a secret shopper than I thought.
We sat on the Tube on the way back - packed to the drawstrings with shopping bags. I only felt a smidgen of guilt when two anti-cuts protesters - placards and all - got on and sat in front of us. Should I have been doing something more substantial with my time? FOW2 reassured me that she had felt the same until said protester's terrible rainbow dreadlocks had meant that she had lost all her brownie points. Oh to be able to dismiss guilt so easily.
We also played host to Aged Parent for tea. I instantly became invisible as she spotted grandchildren, as is the way with most grandparents I suppose. FOW1 got a bit tetchy when she informed him that his face had filled out nicely and there was also a bit of a moment when Aged Parent pointed out that FOW2 was getting much better at expressing her opinion more forcefully. This was probably something to do with a conversation which, try as I might, I could not prevent, which was sort of about whether a boyfriend's career was more important than yours. Needless to say, they both had differing opinions about this. I cannot crush potatoes and stop World War Three at the same time. Male members of the family were conspicuous by their absence. 
Anyway, all things getting back to normal now. HOH and I ate our tea at the table tonight to celebrate the return to a quieter life. Not that we don't miss them like crazy. Haven't been to church for a couple of weeks, what with being away and everything. Am hoping that the Second Coming hasn't happened in my absence. Who would there be left to tell me? Anyway, if you were expecting to be taken and you are still here - give us wave will you.

Absence etc

I am sorry I have not been around. Sprogs are back around for a while. Church minutes to type up. HOH and Aged Parent struggling with colds. Birthday celebrations for FOW2 needing to be organised and then partaken of. Day job exceedingly busy. Have made resolution to try not to strive. So sorry. Not there. Be back. Deffo.
Am leaving you with nce photo of my new vac which I have sort of inherited. Long story. It works ok. It's no Dyson but most worrying is the way I am talking to it when it gets stuck. "Don't go under there" "Ooh there's no good is it - you'll never get out" Old age is a terrible thing

The thing is we never were...

Guardian

...were we Mr Cameron?
There's a bit of a rant on the way but it is more in sadness than anger. So this week, we found out that people use offshore tax havens to hide money from their governments, or their wives or the lady that cleans for them. This, I think came as a surprise to precisely no-one.
There were a few choice names that came up and the people of Iceland were especially vexed as they had been told that there was no money anywhere in the whole country and it was fairly disappointing to find out that one of the reasons for that was that their leader had been spiriting it away to Panama in his wife's name. Other than that, we were all unhappy but not especially concerned. What could we do? Then the name "Cameron" came up and it all kicked off.
I take no pleasure in watching a man squirm the way our Prime Minister did this week. It would, of course, been better to be honest right at the beginning and say exactly what went on but which of us hasn't been guilty of being a bit economical with the truth and mumbling a bit in the hope that all this unpleasantness will fade away?
Now I didn't vote for him but I don't think Mr Cameron is anywhere near the most unpleasant person in his party. There is a lot of competition for that spot and I don't even think he is Premier League. I also feel that there is a possibility that some of these more unsavoury elements may be lining up someone as a successor to their Dear Leader and may be stirring things up a bit behind the scenes. (Too House of Cards?  OK.)
What was the most upsetting was to see laid out before your eyes, something that I always thought was true anyway. All that stuff about us all being in this together. We were never all in this together. Not really. In a week when I know of  a young woman who has had her toes removed and her lungs wrecked after a flesh eating disease took its toll, it's not really true to say that you are in it with her is it? Because this week she has had all her benefits and her mobility car taken off her - so college will be a nightmare and  work impossible. Then there is the couple I know. She is a permanent wheelchair user. he is her carer and has several disabilities himself. Still he was managing to hold down a job. It was in a hotel on Dartmoor as a reception manager. He was very highly thought of but he will have to give it up now. Guess why? because you can't get to a hotel on Dartmoor without a car. Well you can catch two buses and walk three quarters of a mile. If you don't need a stick to walk.
I'm not sure that someone who knows that, whatever happens, he doesn't have to worry too much because he can always play out some jiggery pokery with a few hundred thousand can't seriously think that we believe him when he says that we are all in this together can he? I think we all knew that in reality we never were but now we get to see it in black and white.

Its all gone Quite Dark Again.

Thank the Lord for the flippin' Durrells - that's what I say. My Family and Other Animals is one of my favourite books so adaptations make me nervous but this was great. It is a ray of sunshine in a sea of programmes where people are having horrible things happen to them. HOH follows them all - he especially likes a Scandi drama. But even he came into the kitchen after watching Marcella - the new drama with Anna Friel - and remarked "Good grief - that was nasty." Of course he said she was very good, which she obviously is and it's written really well but I'm just not bothering with it. Same with Line of Duty - you know, when the Film "Seven" had a severed head in it, it was so shocking every one I knew talked about it for days. Now we'll be getting them in Blue Peter soon, along with the obligatory tortured/imprisoned female. I really miss Morse sometimes.
Anyway - while I am ranting. Be careful what you wish for drama wise. I stopped watching The Night Manager because halfway through the second episode I realised that I had read it. (Pin sharp as usual, I am) I had read it and not enjoyed it. I thought the ending was downbeat and unsatisfying and SPOILERS - the baddie did not get what was coming to him. So when I heard that they had changed the end, I sat down and had a watch and, indeed they tied a lot of loose ends up and everything was all rosy and.. and.. I didn't like it! Maybe the end was meant to be less than satisfying. Maybe when someone writes a story they have that unhappy ending running silently through it so anything else jars a bit. I don't know. Anyway - for the record I am probably the only person in the universe to say this but I didn't think Hugh Laurie was all that as the villain. I thought he did "deranged genius" really well in House but I just couldn't see him as the kingpin of an international arms group. Quite frankly, he never looks as if he can be bothered to put in the amount of effort that being an international criminal would take. Just my opinion. Nothing to get worked up about. 

Flagging

Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls! Heb 12

Is it Christian to flag - a bit - sometimes? I think it must be. Do you know how I know? Because the Bible tells us not to flag and therefore, people must have been flagging if God had to tell them not to flag. Oh do keep up at the back!
I don't know about you but it has seemed like a long winter here. Not that it has been extra cold or anything because it hasn't. It just seems to have dragged on. We have seen a few changes here at Martha Towers what with the FOWs leaving home. (Although one is back at the moment - pretending to revise) HOH and I get on pretty well all things considered but the sprogs moving on has caused me to be a bit weird in the odd small dose. A friend warned me this would happen a few years ago. She went into a full on depression when hers left. I'm not sure I have gone that far, for which I am grateful, rather than giving myself any credit, but there is certainly a sense of "What now?"
I'm not talking about HOH and I not enjoying what our parents used to call "A Nice Drive Out" - without any eye rolling or tutting -  we intend to do lots of that but when you have spent a good proportion of your energy looking after the FOWs and then they are gone it is a bit - well sad. And I have flagged. Yes I have. I am normally a cheerful sort, my attitude IS gratitude but I have found myself asking about the way forward. Of course, asking God is the last thing I think to do - I usually like to leave praying about something until I have reached desperation levels. It's a little quirk of mine that probably drives God quite bonkers. But I am sort of asking now - whither am I to go? (Sorry - gone a bit Friendly Persuasion there) I don't suppose that this is anything that millions of parents before me haven't experienced but there you are. I am nothing if not unoriginal!

Easter Thinking (4) The Lord is Risen Indeed

I thought a bit about the Resurrection. About the reality of the Resurrection. I struggle a bit with pictures of glowing cloaks and a half naked Jesus stepping on soldiers and waving a flag. I like this Caravaggio about the meal on the road to Emmaus. I like that Jesus looks a bit careworn.The events of the last few days maybe having taken a toll. I like the split second of recognition on the faces of the disciples and the way their hands are almost touching. I also think the two extra people in the painting are interesting - one looks like he will take a bit more convincing thank you very much and the lady looks so worn down by life that she is not sure how much difference this will make to her anyway.

It is interesting, I think, how we react to the miraculous in this life. even the most pivotal and important miracle. It's like our reaction to the tumour that is no longer on the x-ray, the last child pulled from the rubble of an earthquake, the second chance given to the plane crash survivor. 

This was a hard fought for miracle. It didn't come easily. Victory did not fall into the lap of Jesus. Yet still, victory it was. How it affects though depends on what we do with it. We step into it and it reflects in how we live our lives or it doesn't. 

Today was Jesus' day of victory. Now we have to go away and make the chance we have been given mean something for us and those we are called to love.

Easter Thinking (3) - Easter Saturday

Holbein

It's always darkest just before the dawn -  or something. So today was the day before the big day. We know that now, so it's easy to be all full of faith about the promise now. Because we are here all these years later and we know it happened. Harder I think for the followers of Jesus at the time. There were perhaps a few obtuse prophecies - half remembered - about the temple or Jesus returning. But all they had for the moment were nightmares about what they had seen yesterday and a dead body. And, because of the brutal times in which they lived, they were quite aware of what a dead body looked like, thank you very much. This man was most definitely dead - none of this swooning nonsense that some people waffle about these days. He has been tortured and killed. No one could deny that.
And the day lasted just as long as every other day. No clues, no encouragement, just tears and bewilderment. What was that all about then? So they made some arrangements, perhaps to get together and pray. A bit half hearted maybe and not everyone would be there. Peter seemed to have gone back to his old life. So Mary Magdalene and some of the other women made arrangements to go and embalm the body - not check if he had risen by the way - look after his dead body. They would meet early in the morning, as soon as sabbath was over. 
And all the time, while the tiniest grains of faith were still binding them as friends, nudging them to pray and to stand their ground in their everyday lives, the miracle was approaching. As each minute passed it was getting nearer and nearer. No warning, no signs but it was on its way.

 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so they could embalm him. Very early on Sunday morning, as the sun rose, they went to the tomb.

Easter Thinking (2) - Good Friday

Chagal. White Crucifixion.. Chicago Art Institute

I'm not really up for writing about the Crucifixion. I don't have the skills. There have been countless poets and hymn writers who have got a lot closer than me. So I'm not going to do it. Write about the Crucifixion I mean. It's too much for me and I am useless. I did want to say a couple of things though. 
Firstly, I'm really glad that "It's Friday but Sunday's coming" Well, obviously it is but it is still Friday. And, if it's all the same to you, I would like to spend at least a portion of this day thinking on the horror that Jesus experienced. I'm not too keen on pretending that the darkness is never worth dwelling on for more than a millisecond. Partly because I think it does Jesus a dis-service but also, if we refuse to face the fact of a darkness full on, how can we identify with those who weep or mourn? Look how this darkness threw Peter. The night before when he had promised undying loyalty and love, Jesus had told him what would happen.

 “Don’t be so sure,” Jesus said. “This very night, before the rooster crows up the dawn, you will deny me three times.”

And that's exactly what Peter did - a full throated, expletive filled denial in the end. And Peter was overcome. Overcome at his own weakness, and his inability to amount to anything after all the promising and the enthusiasm. He was so overcome that he completely forgot the rest of what Jesus had said to him. 

"But after I am raised up, I, your Shepherd, will go ahead of you, leading the way to Galilee.”

Jesus would come back, and would lead him and Peter would be restored. Peter was blinded to all this, so that on this day of days when Peter had said that he would be there for Jesus, he was nowhere to be found.

Later on, all this would be fulfilled of course but for now Peter was absent as his friend was tortured and killed. The fear had overcome him and he felt there was no way back. Good Friday reminds us that sometimes, for some, all seems lost and hope struggles to get a look in and it makes us go missing from God. People are having those times now as well. Hope seems lost, the darkness overwhelms, we are weak and afraid. Sometimes, as Christians we can be guilty of bellowing "Be Of Good Cheer!" at people (Christianese for "Buck Up") and then leaving it at that. Today of all days is a time when we can at least, gently rub the back of someone's hand and acknowledge the fact of the darkness for a time.