Oooh baby do you know what that's worth.....

So, I am reading this Rob Bell at the moment. Bit disappointed so far. Firstly, I had been told that it was controversial and stated that hell/heaven doesn't exist. Well he doesn't seem to have said it so far, unless I missed it. (Wouldn't be the first time)
To be fair, I haven't finished yet so the juicy bit may be on the way. Secondly, I do find his writing style a bit annoying..  Not so much the style, it's the way it's set out. Like it's written for idiots. Especially from the man who is supposed to be the great communicator. It's all this

One Line
Followed by another line
Followed by a.
Word.
Then a pause.
Erm, what did he just say?

It's probably just me. It usually is. He does ask some really important, difficult questions about eternity. Wish I understood his answers. I'll tell you what I do like about it though. I like the general theme about heaven sort of starting now. When I was a young Christian lass, it was considered very un-spiritual to think about this life too much. We were going to leave it all behind to go to the "meeting in the air" - which was hopefully going to be a bit more lively than some I went to, so "the world"as it was rather negatively called could just go and boil its head. We were to wait for Jesus, while bouncing up and down at meetings, occasionally going out to bark thinly veiled threats to people about hell and wondering why people didn't come to church.
I remember being surprised to learn that there were people who were translating their faith into being very much alive now which led to social justice, caring for others, trying to change the world and having a good time while you were doing it. I sort of pointed at this gang and informed my lot that I was going over there to play. I think it is generally a "good thing" that Christians seem to be more engaged with this life. Young Christians often now have a life plan, ambition and a career (even the women). These are some of the things I wish were around when I was younger like penicillin, electricity, David Beckham and votes for women. (this is more or less how old my kids think I am)
When the final trump sounds (cue sniggering from young people) the last thing I want to be is someone who never really engaged with life. You only have to look in the Bible to see the roller-coaster life that people lived. It surely is never too late. Sarah was 90 when she had Isaac. And then he was nothing but a worry to her what with his dad trying to kill him and everything. That would be the same dad who tried to pass her off as his sister (therefore making her available to all comers) because he was too chicken to stand up for her. It wasn't all fun but it was certainly life!
I know living life means different things to different people. A stay at home home-schooling mum (check out this brilliant blog) who feels called to do it is as valued with God as Wilberforce. It's about finding who you are meant to be in this life and making the most of it. This takes time, effort and pushing through when it all goes horribly wrong. And it means digging deep and making difficult decisions. It also sometimes means having a pretty exciting time - now. Then whatever God has got to follow, surely can only be a bonus.

Rant on the way - People of a nervous disposition look away.
The Olympic Torch came over from Cornwall last night. Now I am not from round here but there are a lot of people I like here and I think a lot of the place. I despaired therefore when I head that the original idea was to bring the torch over the Tamar Bridge IN A VAN! IN CASE IT HELD UP THE TRAFFIC!!! Plymouth - the eyes of the world are upon you! The Tamar Bridge is stunning. Why not go the whole hog and bring it over in an Ivor Dewdney pasty van driven by Larry Spear? (Nothing wrong with Larry Spear - been very generous to the charity I work for, but you know what I mean) Sometimes you have to step up for an occasion. Sanity prevailed in the end I believe and someone got to run across. *sighs deeply and shakes head*

Hidden Spectaculars

Source: The White House

Another week, another grey hair. The experiment to stop dying my hair and go naturally the colour God intends me to be is producing both pros and cons.

Pro - My hair is lightening naturally around my face and it doesn't seem so harsh against my speedily aging skin.
Pro - I hate dying my hair soooo much. Always but ALWAYS manage to get some on the bathroom wall.
Pro - Family say they all like it.
Pro - Saving money

Con - Had no idea it would happen this fast! All these years holding back a tsunami of grey. Who knew?

Old age makes you reflect a bit on  the changes you've seen. HOH and I were watching the news this week about the recovery of the underwear from the would-be plot to bring down a plane. In my day, when you said someone had had an explosion in their underpants it just meant that nappy training wasn't as far along as you had hoped it was. Unfortunately now things are different.
The news says that terrorists are always looking for a "Spectacular" A 9/11. Something to get everyone's attention. A big immediate impact that will change the world.
I wonder if we are all like that. Not that I want to blow up a plane or anything but looking for the next spectacular. Where's my Burning Bush God? If I had a Burning Bush in front of me accompanied by a loud booming voice telling me to take my shoes off, I am certain the following would be true.

1. The shoes would be off pretty sharpish.
2. I would be a lot more certain about God's direction and more confident about actually acting on it.

However, I find that life is rarely that certain and our Hydrangeas remain intact and un-singed. Because most of us do not live that life. And, although, it's not as exciting to say so, most of us know what we should be doing every day and what God says about the way we conduct our lives. God isn't going to turn up every twenty minutes to reiterate everything he has already said as if he was a contestant on Mastermind whose specialist subject was "The Flaming Obvious"! And if the daily decisions we make about the way we live our lives don't seem that spectacular at first glance, who is to say where they will lead?

Do you think that on December 1st 1955 when Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat for a white person, she thought for one moment that one day the President of the United States would be sitting in that seat reflecting on what followed? I suspect not. She said that she was just "Tired of giving in." 

Her decision, which was a reflection of the life she lived - she was active in the Civil Rights Movement - was part of a chain reaction which would change a society. I suspect it didn't feel anything like that at the time.

Not all actions are "spectaculars". Not everything has immediate effect. Sometimes, spending so much time longing for flashing lights and girls twirling batons, can mean forgetting to do what we are meant to be doing now and who knows what kind of a spectacular that could be causing somewhere down the road?

But he's already made it quite plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women.
It's quite simple. Do what is fair and just to your neighbour, be compassionate and loyal in your love, 
And don't take yourself too seriously - take God seriously
Micah 6:8 The Message

Stickability

This week Fruit of Womb Two sent me a text from school. This is usually a sign of a problem. Sometimes it's

"Forgot to tell you, I am doing drama tonight - do not cook tea." *Mother sighs, thinking of huge Shepherd's Pie defrosting in kitchen*

or

"I have been sick. A lot of it seemed to land on school nurse. She is not happy. Please come and get me. NOW"  


This time though it was much more celebratory. As she finished her GCSE year to begin study leave, her text read,
"That is it! I never have to do PE again :)" 

Unfortunately, my daughter has inherited my "non-sporty" gene.
It reminded me of a story I had shared before so, if you have read it, my apologies. You don't have to read this though - not as if you are paying for it or anything. Anyway, as I said, I was completely rubbish at PE, but a group of my friends were not. They were really good at hockey. Good enough to form the core of the school team and, for reasons best known to themselves, they wanted me with them. There's no accounting for taste. I was placed in defence, and dutifully turned up every week for my ritual humiliation of so called training. This involved being shouted at loudly by a PE teacher who didn't even bother to learn my name and getting whacked so often on the legs by the ball, that I should have taken out shares in witch hazel.
In truth though, actually playing matches was easy. My friends were really good and the ball spent most of the match at the other end of the pitch while they battered seven bells out of the opposition. Our goalkeeper and my good self would while away the match playing air guitar with our sticks and singing Bay City Rollers songs.
The trouble started when, through no fault of my own, we were promoted. We had now, quite literally, gone up a division. Thus began a torrid time. As a defensive player, I suddenly found myself having to defend, which was not part of our original agreement. More people ran past me than the starting gun at the London Marathon.  Still, I kept coming to training, kept trying, kept dabbing the sore spots.
The whole thing came to a head when we were visited by the division leaders. As they walked on to the pitch, dragging their knuckles seductively along the floor,  I was tempted to demand a mass sex test. These weren't school girls. They were freaks of nature and cocky with it. Sure enough, before I had time to feign injury and leave the pitch, one of them was hurtling towards me, legs pumping like pistons. There was nothing for it, I just had to have a go, so I swung the stick back and trying to remember something, anything, from training, I had a wild stab at taking the ball from her. Amazingly, I hit it, slap in the middle and it went flying up-field. She was, quite rightly, astonished and, with no attempt to spare my feelings, demanded "How did YOU do that?"
To my surprise, the answer came from our PE teacher. She leaned into the pitch and growled " By keeping going. She never gives up. That always ensures you will eventually be in the right place at the right time." Then she ran away up the touchline, doing her usual uncanny impression of the Incredible Hulk and calling down curses on the referee.
I wish I could say that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship with playing sport but I quit the team soon after, still dining out on what was (direct quote from coach here) "One of the finest defensive hits I have seen" Oh yes.
Keeping going is an underrated skill. Pushing on through, despite how tough it is sometimes. Believing that if you keep doing the right thing. God will notice and come though for you. Yet I think he will and I am unusually certain about this for once. How can I be so sure? Because It's not me that says so.

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.
Galatians 6:9

Learning to scratch

She was sixteen this week. Sixteen! When did that happen? She is stunning, brainy, funny and kind. How did that happen? Takes after Head of House probably. Sometimes, when HOH and I struggle with what we may have achieved in our lives, we look at the people God helped us to make and think - that's not a bad thing we did there is it?
I have struggled a bit to write this week. Nothing dramatic. Just struggled. On a cursory viewing, the week has been fine. She turned sixteen, without any major mishaps. In my own personal opinion, I wasn't too keen on the birthday cake I produced. The girl requested chocolate brownies rather than your basic cake and I was fine with that - done it plenty of times before.The thing was I left it as late as possible to do the cake so that it would still be warm. Unfortunately, this meant that the gooey bit hadn't cooled enough when I came to cut them. So, although they did taste pretty scrummy, the final result did ever so slightly remind me of a candle and glitter bedecked cow pat. Everyone pretended not to notice which was nice.
So it's been a good week really with lots of good things happening and yet I have felt a bit blah, really. Sometimes this can just be due to life. Being tired, pinging your back out cleaning the stairs, your belly having an unfortunate reaction to mackerel on toast. Sometimes though, blahhness has to be chased down. Whatever it is that's making you itch has to be found and scratched. If you can do this much peace will come your way - indeedy.
So the first thing to do is to turn off the TV/Computer/Radio or any other distractions. We are supposed to be in a living relationship with God. Make some space to help his look at this with you.
Then, find some time, to actually shut up and have some silence. Ask God to show you what it is that is affecting you. Sometimes when you do this, God will point you towards the mackerel reaction, two paracetamol and an afternoon watching Sherlock re-runs. He is very aware that sometimes we overdo it and need to slow down. Exhibit A - Elijah whingeing was dealt with by rest and food and water supplied by God's own Raven Delivery Service. If I were God (How grateful we all are that this will never be true) I would have probably dealt with it with a thunderbolt and a big echoy voice shouting "I have just given you a spectacular victory. BUCK UP or I will get someone else!" Still, that's me and I'm not proud of it.
Sometimes, there are things that need to be dealt with. Say sorry. Put something right. Although, there are times when things cannot be put right and unpleasantness will happen.
We need to be developing a regular habit of letting God show us what is making us itch and then showing us how to scratch it. He doesn't always change the circumstances. He always provides the support to survive it.
And when I did this, I found that there were three or four things lurking in the back of my mind that had been worrying me to different degrees over the last few weeks. I can't share them with you because some involve people who may read this and one is quite frankly so stupid, it is embarrassing. But when I identify them - I can pray about them. Then things begin to change. When I identify my woes, I can see what I can do to deal with them or pass them to a saviour who can not only deal with them quite capably thank-you but also provides peace in the midst of his dealings.
Witness the old hymn

O what peace we often forfeit.

O what needless pain we bear

All because we do not carry

Everything to God in prayer

Sometimes it pays to spend some time with your spiritual magnifying glass, examine until you find out what ails you and pray in a specific way. Then, when you look back at what God did you can say thank you - equally specifically. How good does it feel when, having found an itch, you finally get to scratch it? I rest my case m'lud.

An Attentive God

You may or may not know (or care) that I walk to work most mornings. I try, where possible to make this into a spiritual time. Actually I walk Fruit of Womb Two to the bus stop with the dogs first but  the combination of school chat, mad Jacks, stinky poo bags and the old man I talk to in the park make any kind of spiritual activity there impossible.
So later, when I walk to work, the idea is that I use the time alone to connect with God. That's the idea. Sometimes I listen to books etc.on the old MP3 thingy. Sometimes I try to pray. If I could have written the word "try" in the previous sentence in big shiny pink glittery letters, I would have done. Because "try" is indeed the operative word. I thought I might share this prayer time with you. The normal font is how my thoughts and prayers are supposed to go. The italics are where they often really go. All names have been changed or left out or both.

Leaving House
Lord, as another day starts, I just want to commit it to you and all that is about to happen in this day that you have given us.
Did I actually lock the door? Ooh look - number 5 are having their windows done.
Lord, first of all I want to thank you for all that you have done for me. That I am still here and for the life that you have given me with all its challenges and joys.
Bit heavier on the challenges than the joys if I am totally honest at the moment. 
For my family as we go our separate ways today. For HOH at work and FOW 2 at school and for FOW1 as he..
Rats. Don't think I told FOW1 to put the washing out and he'll never think to do it. Students. Pah!


Walking down Road to Park
Father, I just want to commit.......... to you. Help her as she makes decisions about her future with all the things she has to consider. Give her wisdom and peace and a balance in her life.
Speaking of balance, watch it here. Last time you weren't paying attention here, you caught your foot and went flying. There was blood and tears and scar tissue. Wonder if people see me every morning and think. "There's that woman that fell over."
Lord and for..................Haven't seen him in ages. Keep watch over him.
Wonder what "Shellac" is? Says it there in hairdressers.


Entering Park
Father and for family far away.  Aunty....... and ........ as they go on their cruise.
Lucky so and sos
And for our church and the work that is going on all the time in the local community. Bless those who work so hard and show me ways to support them.
Squirrel! 


Crossing road after leaving park
Father help me to commit all aspects of my life to you and not to try and carry them myself. Help me to be kind and thoughtful.
"Same to you stupid driver. I was too looking!"


Approaching work
So Lord today, help me to appreciate this world that you have put me in. Lord it is too wide and deep for me to comprehend but let me be aware of your hand in all things and give me wisdom to deal with all things today.
"Oh no. Think the rough sleepers have pooed in the car park again."


As you have probably guessed, I have not shared this with you so that you can be impressed by the profound depth of my prayer life. To be fair to me (and I am always fair to me) this is not all that my prayer life consists of,  but I share it to reiterate that God, for reasons that totally escape me, in interested in all aspects of our lives. Even though he is more than aware of how many times I fail. He is listening. He is paying attention. He is able to help me do this better.But for now he is working with the crumbs that I sometimes give him. It really is amazing don't you think?


It's well known that God isn't at the beck and call of sinners but listens carefully to anyone who lives in reverence and does his will.
John 9 The Message

Oh it's a jolly 'oliday with Martha

I have had a week off. Well ten days really if you include the Easter break. It has been lovely. Of course the weather broke down the day before I finished but that was fine - I expected that. Good weather had not been in my plans. For I have been PRODUCTIVE. (For at least some of the time.) Now productive is as productive does as people almost never say and one person's productive is another person's lazing around doing nothing. However, in the interests of scientific research, I shall list the highlights of my week and leave you to make up your own minds as to whether it was productive or not..
1. I have cleaned the rugs. This involved dragging an industrial cleaner, the size of a small trailer home from Morrisons to use for a day. The instructions were about the same level of complication as those needed to launch a missile but I bravely fought my way through. You should have seen the colour of the water! I'm surprised Health and Safety haven't been round to close us down. I blame the dogs. Anyway - you could eat off these rugs now - if you wanted to.
2. I have cleaned out the pantry. Well I say pantry. Nigella has nothing to fear. It's a cupboard under the stairs. All the redcurrant jelly and other Christmas detritus has bitten the dust. (Actually not as much this year as I was quite organised. Most of the waste came from relatives giving me stuff we wouldn't use. Biscuits for Cheese anyone?) I hate uncooked cheese (it's like yoghurt - its milk that's gone off) There is a limit to how much crunching up of biscuits to use as breadcrumbs I can do so the box has gone. Sorry all frugalistas.
I have put all my tins in order. So I know what I have and don't get caught buying another four pack of tuna. Look - it never goes off!
3. I have cleaned out my wardrobes. (Do you see a pattern emerging? You may well be asking - how filthy is this place - it needs a lot of cleaning) But my wardrobe wasn't dirty. Just full of stuff. I have removed all unwanted stuff about five yards to my "Car Boot Pile". Head of House is threatening mutiny unless I get rid within the next week. Pah!
4. I have sorted all bills etc. into new filing cabinet. Thus reducing need to go crawling under the bed to retrieve cardboard box full of bills when trying to check how much money South West Water are fleecing us for this year. On a side note. You may not realise that water bills are astronomical here in the South West of England. This, apparently, is because we have such lovely coastline here and we need to pay huge sums of money to keep it like that. Think of that next time you visit Devon and Cornwall. You won't see me. I'm too busy working to pay the water bill to get to the beach.
5. I have finished a chapter of what I laughingly call "My Book"
6. I have been to see "The King and I" with a chum. I think we brought the average age of the audience down by about 20 years but the songs are so lovely. As I have said before - a little confused by the King of Siam appearing to father so many blond children with Devon accents, however, this did not detract from a good night out.
7. I have gained a very high skill level on Solitaire Blitz. This has come through lots of practice. Unfortunately, the practice was done when I was supposed to be working on point 5.
8. Have taken offspring on tour of house to introduce new tidiness regime. When you were little, did you ever shout into a bucket and hear your voice echoing back to you from the empty void? It was a bit like that.
9. Have tried to watch DVD of "Tinker Tailor" with commentary. Unfortunately my grasp of the remote control is not what it was and only succeeded in putting the subtitles on. Had to settle for watching back to back Horrible Histories instead. Complete genius. Am working on learning lyrics to theme song.
10. Have had top notch evening with cinema, chippy tea (chips and gravy for me) and white wine. Doesn't get any better than that.

Anyway, back to work Monday, if I can fit it in. Have a great week.

Easter (With Spoilers)

So sorry this is late. Easter weekend you know. Eggs to buy (How much? You are joking?) Rocky Road to make. Tablecloths to find and try and get clean. Lamb to roast. You get the idea. This year has been a bit different. For several mixed up reasons I have spent my first Easter Sunday for many a year not making it to church. (Please don't send the Christian Police round. The reasons are legit, if a bit annoying)
I'm not usually too bothered about missing Sundays. Having worked in a church and therefore having to serve people who felt that if the door was open, I should be there, I find the odd missed Sunday is a blessing. Didn't like not being there on Easter Sunday though.
So took the dogs and went down the park. It was quiet believe it or not and quite warm. Just tried to think what it must have been like that first morning - when everything was starting again. That morning when all there was to see was an empty grave and a set of clean crisp grave clothes. On a day to day basis we (well by "we" I usually mean me) get so caught up in living on a day to day basis, but it repays us well to muse on the miraculous. It takes a leap to think about about a dead man coming to life. I think it helps if you believe that he is the Son of God. Makes that leap a bit easier.
On Good Friday I saw a tweet saying  "RIP Jesus Christ" is trending (Shush) Nobody spoiler bomb this for these people. I think it was meant to be heavy with irony but we haven't had irony in the South West since 1962 so I liked it. Because he wasn't resting in peace - he was on his way back. To stand in the gap. So we had a man speaking for us in the heavenlies. You know, no-one ever did something like that for me before. Either Jesus is amazing or I am quite something myself. Or both. Maybe.
While we are musing on death as you do I found this. Food for thought here. If the gift of life has been given to us. How do we use it? Maybe we ask could ask someone for whom the gift is ending.
Lastly, am writing this while Head of House is in front room listening to Gladys Knight on telly singing "Every Beat of My Heart" first recorded in 1961. Disturbingly he is loudly informing Fruit of Womb Two that you could - direct quote - "build a piggin' church round this". This is not theologically sound doctrine obvs but despite that am sure he loves God, God loves him and he makes me very happy, therefore we shall let him off, this time.

In My Honest Opinion

It's been really sunny just about everywhere in this Britain we like to call Great. Possibly time to get the legs out or possibly not. Anyone who knows me at all - and I mean has come across me in the flesh in a real bodily way rather than on the Interweb, will know that my legs are not my favourite feature. I mean they hold me up and help me to walk the dogs and everything so they are quite serviceable but, shapely they are not.
In the early days of our relationship when Head of House was still trying to impress me, he would barely make mention of these legs. That is unless they had my favourite blue moccasins on the end of them. He inexplicably took against these blue moccasins and refused to go out with me when I had them on. He claimed that it was for my own good and that I would thank him one day. I still miss those moccasins.
To return to my legs. These days I find that when HOH is accompanying me when shopping for clothes, I am more in need of an honest opinion, preferably kindly expressed about how my legs look in things, rather than flattery. Obviously, I can live without. "No! Just No! Take them off now!" but still honesty is the best policy. We've been together long enough and seen enough things happen to be well past the stage where I would be happy with him saying "It looks lovely" just because (a) he didn't want to hurt my feelings or (b) he's bored and would like to go home (more likely). We are comfortable enough with each other to be past that sort of thing. Although I do still hold to my old mother's maxim of keeping some mystery in the bathroom if you get my drift. Some things should always be done alone.
I was thinking about this when I was thinking about one of my favourite promises for me from God. It's in Isaiah and my favourite version is in The Message

I'm transforming you from worm to harrow
From Insect to Iron
As a sharp toothed harrow, you'll smooth out the mountains
turn those tough old hills into loamy soil

Now, at first glace this doesn't look much like a nice thing to say to a lady. I will turn you into a sharp toothed harrow. (For those of you who don't subscribe to Farming Monthly - a harrow is a sort of agricultural implement with teeth or discs that cut through the soil. See. Learnt something. You're welcome.)
It's a bit like when Patrick Swayze used to sing "She's Like the Wind" in Dirty Dancing. I haven't seen the film myself so I suppose I can't comment but it always sounded a bit off to me.
The thing is though for me, this was a great promise. I do have a bit of a tendency to the wishy-washy. Leave me alone to tidy a room and if you come back an hour later, chances are I will have got sidetracked by a bag of old letters or a book and have achieved nothing. I'm often well meaning but seldom accomplish all that I mean well to do. I have lots that I want to accomplish but struggle often with a sort of inbuilt worminess. When I first read this it was as if God was honest enough to agree that I was a bit wet but that he would help me overcome it. I was thrilled skinny. Still am when I read it. Because I do see that I have come on a bit in this area. Although I depend on God to comfort me, I also need a God of truth. We don't have to be afraid of God's honesty because unlike remarks about my moccasins it's always for my good in the long run or even, if I catch on quickly enough, in the short run.
I am aware that I have a responsibility in this too. If God is to transform me I do have a responsibility to pitch in a bit too. I thought about this when re-playing this comedy sketch from genius Bob Newhart. (Seen him live. I know you are jealous - well you should be.) I mean if you are talking about honesty, well this is as good as it gets.

Americana

Unlike some people on this sceptred isle, I bow to no one in my admiration for the USA. I think it is a great country. I know I've only been to New York which is sort of a country on its own really but I think that any place that produces Star Wars - originals only  *compulsory disclaimer on all mentions of the words "Star" and "Wars"*, Frank Sinatra, The West Wing, Phillip Yancey, Woody Allen, Motown etc etc must be your actual rather wonderful place.
I know some people take exception to America's habit of occasionally shouting at everyone "Who rules da world?" just to put us in our place but to be fair - they probably do. I think we as Brits probably did the same thing when we had an Empire but our shouting would be a bit more refined and done with our pinkie finger in the air.
I also accept that there are places in America where the sixties never happened and that in these places the fact that America has a black president is just a temporary moment of madness that will soon pass. It sometimes seems strange to me as a foreigner that the President's way of dealing with this seems to be to pretend that he isn't black at all until I remember that when we were all sort of revolutionary over here and elected our own lady/woman leaderene, she was practically a man in everything but the lippy and the handbag. I suppose the idea is that it doesn't matter what colour/sex you are.
Anyway I am digressing again. Why don't you shout and tell me? Despite all this general American wonderfulness there is one thing I can never forgive them for. The Prom. To be precise the prom for sixteen year olds. When I was sixteen, at the end of the school year we had a school disco. We wore platform shoes and love beads. The super glams wore blue glittery eyeshadow. It was super exciting because make up and jewellery were not allowed at school. (Officially. Unofficially people wore jewellery until they got caught, when it was instantly confiscated, never to return. My theory was that Mrs Briddon had a stall on Farnworth Market with the stuff she nicked from me)
Now sixteen year old people cannot just settle for a disco. Oh no. we have to deal with THE PROM. This is the first time I have had to cope with this. Fruit of Womb One sulked his way through his first one (Boring) and didn't bother turning up for the second one skulking off to Pizza Hut instead. I knew it would be different with the girl.
Now I have to admit that I am getting off lightly. Girl is spending day of Prom at friend's house and they will be getting hair, nails etc done there by visiting beauty moppets. Some parents are running all over town making beauty appointments like its for Oscar Night and it's not that bad for me but there is still terrible pressure to get the right dress, shoes etc. Who decided that this was acceptable? Who is the demon master of marketing that managed to foist this on us? Evil Genius you are.
Have you seen some of the prices of the dresses? Now I'm not mean (well OK I am quite mean) but £600 to buy a dress to stand in some crummy hotel with a load of grumpy teachers and hysterical school kids, all of whom will be the worse for drink despite  threats about enforced sobriety. Pah and double pah! By the way, before you start emailing me with photos of starving African children and lecturing me on being loosey goosey with good money, let me reassure you that we will not be spending £600 on a prom frock in this house.
It is so difficult though. Some Christians who live in the woods and eat berries and see the glory of God in nature every day etc will tell me to get real and make a dress from curtains like the Sound of Music. But I can't. I simply can't. I don't have time for one thing and for another, anyone who saw my attempt at putting a zip into a cushion cover knows that no sane person would ever wear anything I made.
I could make her wear something from the hospice shop and indeed I expect some people will do this successfully. But I think you have to have a certain elan to pull that off. I don't posses enough style and I'm not convinced that everyone else who thinks that they have that style actually has it either. I remember dropping Girl off at a party where her friend was wearing a "vintage" frock. The last person I saw wearing a dress like that was Olive in On The Buses. And Olive looked better in it.
Do I want her to think God is a spoilsport? Does God not want her to look pretty? God made her pretty - of course he does. It is I suppose, all about the daily challenge of a balanced, godly life in a world where values have sometimes gone to pot as they say up north. My challenge is to allow, nay encourage her to have a good time while reminding her of the ridiculousness of the whole thing and that spending every last penny on looking like you are permanently auditioning for a soap isn't really something to build a whole life on. I believe our American cousins call it "Keeping it Real". Indeed.

Mother's Day Thinking

So here I am celebrating Mother's Day - sort of. Head of House is working so without him to pile on the guilt,   Mother's Day is not what you would call a priority here. Still Fruit of Womb One is home from York University so that is nice. Neither of the sprogs are guaranteeing to spend the whole day here - there's no point being ridiculous about it.
So, left to my own devices, I was musing on Parenthood - the movie not the vocation. It's one of my favourite films. I love Steve Martin - he is a genius. That is not an invitation to debate. That is a fact. I am unmoved in this opinion despite the strange changes there seem to have been to his face recently. Anyway, there are several key scenes in the film that perfectly capture what it is to be a parent. This is one of those moments. Kevin is an insecure child who hates playing in his baseball team because there's so much pressure. And when the ball goes towards him, the panic his father feels is only matched by his joy when the ball is caught.
It's so good because that's how it is when you are a parent. A great chasm of love opens up that you can do nothing about. Sometimes it's as painful as it is joyful but that is irrelevant. Parents are completely caught up in their children with no hope of escape. You have probably heard the phrase "I am only as happy as my unhappiest child. " and I think that is true. (I tried to find out who said it originally but couldn't find anything. Well I Googled it and it wasn't in the first three answers.That's what passes for research as far as I am concerned) There are exceptions to this I know but I am only speaking from experience and it is an extraordinary and powerful experience.
Maybe the most "successful" Christians are those who manage to get hold of how this translates into the Fatherhood of God. Imagine someone completely caught up in you. Sharing your joys, troubles and heartbreak as if it were their own.
Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

These words from Matthew are some of the first words that Jesus speaks after the resurrection. Look and think about the phrase "my brothers"
I don't know if you do meditation. It got a bit of a bad press when I was a young Christian - being associated with yogis who were apparently showing the Beatles the path to enlightenment while secretly trying to put their hand on Mia Farrow's leg.
Put all that behind you though and try to meditate about this phrase and all that I think Jesus is deliberately saying about Christians here.
MY - implies family, belonging, strong connection and intimacy.
BROTHERS - if he is the son and we are his brothers then we too are sons, family and belonging. It's who were are.
It nothing to do with how we feel. It's who we are. It's un-caused, un-earned. It's how a family is supposed to be.
Have a great week everyone.

PS Head of House is unimpressed by effect the Cloonster getting arrested for very important and heroic stand is having on female members of the family. Head of House knows nothing.

Come let us reason together

Or not.

You may well have been subject to name calling over the last couple of weeks. You may well have not even realised that it was happening. I came across it by default because it happened on Twitter and the Twitter/Lent/Giving Up Thing is just about holding. I'm still not sure why I am doing it - no discernable spiritual effect but I've come this far. Anyway, if you have signed up to the petition calling for marriage to remain as a lifetime commitment between one man and one woman you may or may not know that a link went up on Twitter referring to the petition as a "Homophobe List" One word (sort of)
OUT - PIGGING - RAGEOUS

I need to explain my thoughts - few of which will flow in any particularly coherent way and some of which will probably not be file-able under "Christian Heart-Warming Edifying Things" but it's my blog and I want to say them anyway.
The first thing is that you should not lose too much sleep over this. The link was put up by some of the "right-on" slightly snarky writers who earn their living by proving that they know much more than you could ever possibly hope to. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of reading you as you insult me. I'm very humbled.
When I'm insulted, I usually prefer it to be by someone who knows me from a bar of soap - call me old fashioned. There's very little I can hold my head up about in this life but anyone who knows my life circumstances knows that a Homophobe I ain't.
These are very complicated issues. For me, the Christian church has brought a lot of this on itself by a surfeit of superiority when it was in the majority on this issue. I also think that if, as a Christian, anyone can honestly point at me and attach the word "---phobe" to me about anything or anyone, then I have to have a good look at myself. I am in no position to judge anyone.
Some people are referring to this as persecution. I am not so sure. I think if you spent 15 minutes with a Nigerian Christian or an Egyptian Christian you would be able to have a clearer definition of real persecution and would feel like a bit of a soft nelly.
What concerns me is that tolerance seems to be a bit of a one way street. For many people these are deeply held spiritual views (although again - complicated - there is a huge spectrum of opinion in this area within the church) which really transcend some people in the papers writing opinion pieces. But, as the great philosopher Will Young seemed to suggest on Question Time this week - anyone who disagrees with his viewpoint isn't actually entitled to an opinion, so there. (I don't think he actually said that he would scweam and scweam until he was sick but the threat was certainly there)
See how mad it's made me? I will need to go off and eat several scones to calm down.
The worst thing about all this is that it detracts. It detracts from the central truth. That the Son of God, while I had no interest in him whatsoever, came to the earth and died for me so that I could have my life changed and be saved. So that he could call me friend.


Isaiah 1:18

Come now and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. 

La di da

Well the Internet is back, which is nice. I have spent too much time really catching up on reading blogs etc as well as your actual basic being alive stuff so I haven't really sat down and prayed and thought about what to say really. We are off to church to night as part of a highly scientific experiment to try some different meetings to allow Head of House  to attend more because his shifts make things difficult sometimes. So between then and now, I have to make a chicken cobbler, have a shower (new one fitted yesterday - happy but will miss extra time to do stuff while bath is running)and generally sort stuff for working morning tomorrow. So what I am saying is that I sometimes do this a bit on the hoof. Who knew?
I sometimes wish I was more thoughtful. I don't mean thoughtful in that I always remember birthdays and ring people up when I hear that their cat has died. (I don't really - I am rubbish at that sort of stuff. I always think people will think I am poking my nose in so I sit alone and worry about people silently.) No I mean thoughtful in that I think deeply about my faith. Both inside and outside the box as the young people say. I admire people who do this. The blog  Quiet Way is a brilliant example of this. I may not always come to the same conclusions she comes to but I admire the way that she has taken the time to do so.Unfortunately, I am much more of a La Di Da sort of person. If you haven't seen Annie Hall (and if you haven't you can't possibly be my friend so if you love me you will make the effort) you may not know that La Di Da was a phrase that Diane Keaton would use when she kind of ran out of useful things to say or when she didn't know the answer to something. With her it was endearing. With me - maybe less so. I don't expect to have the answers to everything - That way madness and at the very least an attempt at world domination lies. But some things I think are important enough to develop a useful opinion on and need thought.
The problem, of course, is time. I would love to spend more time in the garden under a home crocheted blanket, sipping whisky (OK - possibly not if I am trying to think) and coming up with deep spiritual insights but in practice, it rarely happens. The only way is to simplify things and then to actually do quiet time. And while I am at it I might just learn how to teach a pig to fly. Frustrated? You bet your bippy. Giving up on it? Nah. Old story. Old solution. Think I might ask God to help me

Sensitive natured people - look away now. Have spent morning in raucous laughter. Daughter has monkey suit onesie. HOH hung it on washing line this morning. Monkey suit has curly tail. Curly tail on back on onesie is never noticed. Curly tail peeping out between washing has highly pornographic appearance - borderline frightening. Monkey suit taken off line sharpish before visit from local constabulary. Do you think its like this in Billy Graham's House?

No not Davey Jones as well. Love the Manchester accent here...

Blog Apologies

This is a mini blog because (a) Virgin - in their wisdom have declined the opportunity to provide us with an Internet service this week. Leaves on the cables or something. Am doing this in spare time at work And (b) we have been in York visiting Fruit of Womb One.
Sooo will do proper "thoughts" next time. However, just a conundrum. Did decide to give up Twitter for Lent. This is causing lots of unforeseen problems. Firstly, people are tweeting me and I am ignoring them which is just plain rude and good manners are important to us Northerners. Secondly, when I informed Head of House of my less than momentous decision he gave me incredulous look and following conversation took place.
HOH: But you are a non conformist! You'll be buying plastic Marys next!
MOI: Extreme. No, I thought it would be a good spiritual discipline.
HOH: You are not supposed to need men to tell you when you need spiritual disciplines.
MOI: Well I just sometimes wonder if Spurgeon would be on Twitter
HOH: Are you joking? You get that Spurgeon quote on your phone every morning. It's the same thing.
MOI: Er sort of. But I do follow Caitlin Moran,The Queen etc. Not all of it very spiritual.
HOH: Pah! *Leaves room singing 200 year old hymns about Freedom from Tyranny etc. etc.*

So all I have decided is that I haven't decided if it is a good or a bad thing for me. Understand that it works for many people. Think God would probably have someone who is decisive either way. Onwards and upwards.

Special Subject

...the bloomin' obvious!

This is our dawg. he's called Morecambe (after Eric) He's not called Malcolm. Do you hear me mad man on the park with a carrier bag full of Stellas? Morecambe - not Malcolm! You find him here doing his favourite thing (other than baiting Lucy - our other dog). Sometimes Morecambe is extraordinarily intelligent. If the phone rings when one person is out of the house, Morcs will run to the front door in full on hysterical mode because he is sure that someone will be leaving to taxi the missing person home. (Morcs doesn't like it when people leave Hargreaves Towers. Actually, he doesn't like it when people arrive at Hargreaves Towers. He is very much in favour of the status quo) Sometimes though and it pains me to be so rude - he is incredibly stupid. He must know that getting too close to the fire, although very pleasant for a while,  can often be quite painful. As it is a real, living fire with real wood/coal on it, it does bite back occasionally and spit out a red hot ember. This is not really a problem as long as we are in the room to keep an eye on it or as long as you are not a Jack Russell with your big, black cute nose far too close to the fire. then it makes him yelp. Big time. The thing is, it doesn't seem to matter how many times we warn him, how many times it happens and even the little singe marks he gets on the end of his nose don't seem to make a difference. When he is in full fire mode, all common sense goes out of the window.
*writer moves almost seamlessly to heavy duty Christian point she wishes to make*


Philippians 4:6-7
The Message
Don't fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God's wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It's wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the centre of your life.

• Even though I know - not suspect - know that worry makes no difference at all to anything that happens to me. I still insist on taking all my life's circumstances and chewing them all over until they have eaten away at all logical faith and thought.
• I have seen enough in my past to know that God listens to and answers prayer - never in my timing and rarely as I expect but I am never ignored.
• Combining these two facts means that I know that a problem given to God will not be forgotten, God has the capability and the heart to deal with anything that life throws at me and that he is therefore far better positioned to deal with everything I worry about.
• I am meant to give these things to God leaving me with peace to get on with my life

Yet, like a little dog who refuses to take note of what is good for him, no matter how obvious past experience may make this, I continue to make life more difficult for myself than it needs to be (and Lord knows, it's difficult enough anyway)

It's a massive blessing - massive I tell you! Yet will I ever be brave or mature enough to take advantage of it? Is it just me? Seriously, I do my own head in sometimes.

Event of the week. I expect when Catherine Middleton writes that she has stuff like "met Elton John" (obligatory for Royalty it seems) or "Tried on tiara". My event was - "I fell over." Big time. I fell on my face and unusually for me, this is not an exaggeration. I would put a photo up but Nightmare on Elm Street probably has the copyright on that face.  Also, hurt shoulder, knees and ruined trousers and just for added value, managed to do it in front of row of ten teenage girls having photo taken before night out. Many were so horrified by my bloody visage that they actually ran away in horror as I staggered to my feet, trying to say comfortingly "I think it looks worse than it is." (It didn't) Head of House is threatening to only allow me out if I am carrying banner saying. "I have not been thumped. I fell over. Outside. There are witnesses." In case anyone cares. It hurt actually. Quite a lot.

This last bit this week isn't big or clever so if you want to ignore it or are more mature than me, then stop reading now. My friend and yours Prof Dawkins went on the Radio this week to announce that a survey had found that many people who profess to be Christians do not believe in many areas of the Christian faith and some couldn't even name the first book of the New Testament. (Is this supposed to be news?) Anyway, using that logic, as the country's leading atheist and evolutionist the Prof would easily be able to remember the full title of Darwin's Origin of the species wouldn't he? Rev Giles Fraser called him out on it. Enjoy first then you can be sorry later. If you want to.

Quiet Courage

Hello all. Full details of photo above later on. I have finished great book this week. "Operation Mincemeat" by Ben Macintyre. To paraphrase the great Claudia Winkleman. Read it, then call me - you'll love it. It's all about the famous wartime operation to fool Hitler into thinking that the Allies Invasion was bigger than it was and that it was not going to be in Sicily. To do this , they took a dead body of an itinerant miner and dressed him up as an important military bod and dropped his body full of "Top Secret Information" (All of which was lies) near the Spanish coast where the Germans would find it and be fooled by it. Read it. It's much better than that synopsis.
The thing was, that a lot of the plan was quite hopeless really and if anyone in Germany had bothered to take a long hard look at the body or that papers, it was unlikely that they would have been fooled. The fact that they were fooled was down to a few reasons - hubris was one and fear of Hitler was another but one of the main reasons that this false intelligence got through was  Baron Alexis Von Roenne.
He was a hero of WW1, a holder of the Iron Cross, the Head of the German Intelligence Service. He was also a Christian. What was was not known about him was that he was appalled by the racial policies of the Nazis and although he saw himself as a loyal German, he secretly began to work against Hitler. Quietly and without fanfare he skewed the figures of the Allied Forces so that the Germans had the wrong ideas about how many troops were on the way. McIntyre says that "From 1943 onwards he deliberately and consistently inflated the Allied order of battle, overstating the strength of the British and American armies in a successful effort to mislead Hitler and his generals. It was his recommendation that saw the papers on the Allies' decoy body fool Hitler's Generals. He was eventually arrested as a conspirator in the plot against Hitler's life - which he was probably almost certainly not involved in - and hanged on a meat hook and left slowly to die.
I was struck by his day to day courage. Quietly and seen by no one he took small decisions day by day because they were right. No big showy fanfares. No tambourines, no conferences with glossy pamphlets to learn from him about how to be courageous. Just doing it. He certainly wasn't an angel. He was a snob, who as much as anything felt that Hitler was ruining the aristocracy and the inheritance that was his. This makes his courage even more admirable to me. Not waiting until he was perfect to start doing the right thing. Just starting quietly, alone, with only God to see him and trusting that it was the right thing. 
The night before his execution he wrote to his wife
"In a moment now, I shall be going home to our Lord, in complete calm and in the certainty of salvation." Amazing. Ever think you are playing at it? Only me then.
Had a bit of a knock back with the blog this week. Someone sort of made it plain that they thought that my writing wasn't quite, well Christian enough, to be a Christian blog. They weren't trying to be unpleasant at all - just their opinion. But it did rock me back a bit. I read lots of blogs and there are a lot more saintly and ...well orthodox blogs out there and I am aware that I don't always hit the Christian PC button. It bothered me enough to think about packing in. Because I know I can't change. This is not to say that I am not a work in progress but I am what I am as they say. Witness the photo at the top. Remember last Valentines Day when I compared photos of our bedside cabinets? I was so appalled at the state of mine, that I vowed to change my ways. The photo above is exhibit 1 to prove that I haven't changed a bit. Got worse if anything. 
So I'm sort of soldiering on. Hoping I don't offend anyone. Am actually hoping to encourage and amuse you. It's unlikely to get very much holier though. Sorry.
Finally, Witney Houston is dead. So very sad. Witney of the lovely voice. Saw her live once. She spent as much time changing her frocks as on stage but you forgave her everything when she sang. Heard her sing with the Winans and remember thinking this is what heaven will sound like.

Always There

You might find this hard to believe but I usually have a plan when I sit down to write this. Something has usually occurred in my hum drum existence, which I make a note of so that it doesn't flit out of my full-up brain. Then, over the weekend I sit down and produce this masterpiece.
Thing is, this week, I open laptop. Wait 20 minutes for it to warm up. (Old laptop - I'm used to it. I usually read a magazine until it summons enough strength to connect to the Internet.) Then I open the notebook and...nothing. There is nothing to report. A big fat zero written there.
Arrrrgh. My life is empty. I have nothing to report. I am a spent force. You may as well go back to your homes - there is nothing to see here.... except.
I have been really busy this week. I spect you have been the same. Nearly all of it has been legitimate. Work has been a bit overwhelming.. I actually did a bit of it out of work time which is usually against my religion but needs must.
I have been to the pictures twice this week which may seem a bit Wallis Simpson of me but once was with Fruit of Womb and could come under banner of connecting with my child (See - I am a "Good Mother") Second time was with Head of House and can therefore be justified under category of "Keeping Romance Alive in Marriage." (that would have been more successful if he hadn't refused to buy me some Revels.)
I have also been writing outside of the blog - thinking about producing something a bit more permanent. Calling it a book might be a bit over the top I feel at this point but I have been putting some time in on it. Also one night devoted to open fire, chocolate ice-cream and "Singing in the Rain" DVD. (This comes tagged under "Family Time" or "Counting your Blessings when its so cold outside" or less edifyingly "Pigging Out.")
Then there are the things that technically don't take time but they make you go "erm" and they take your attention.

• Picture of Fruit of Womb One in York in snow wearing Muse T shirt and no coat! Facebook is a blessing and a curse I think. 
• Leaving mobile under seat in cinema. Having to retrieve it from young incredulous cinema person who was unimpressed with my description of it as "A Black Blackberry."
• No Sunday Times because it's snowing in London and that obviously means all civilisation elsewhere has to stop. Its been quite sunny here actually. Sorry.

All this together with dog walking (now have to go long way home after unfortunate incident with paper boy. No idea what he had done to make Lucy take against him), cooking, long phone calls, catching up on Borgen has meant that the week has just gone. Just blinked and that was it.
The really great thing to say about this week is that despite it going past in a blur, I am still as loved and secure in God as I was when the week started. Because, I ain't earning it. It's Grace. Now I know as much as the next Christian worrier that it's not an ideal situation. I know that a good relationship has to be worked at and also that I'm the one missing out if I don't. But, when situations temporarily hinder us or life seems to be all scrunched up and happening at once, the Rock on which all my hopes are founded hasn't moved an inch. The older I get and the more mistakes I make, the more grateful I am for the Unchanging Nature. It makes one side of my mouth curl up in a little bit of a grateful smile and that has to be a good thing.

More Christian Blog posts here..http://livingtopleasegod.blogspot.com/

Accepting your value

I need a book - a book about birdsong. (Number 7 on the list of sentences I thought I would never write) You see most mornings I walk Fruit of Womb 2 through to the bus stop with the hounds and then walk back through the park.  It's been quite dark for the last couple of months. (Well pitch black actually. Found myself wondering how dumb I was walking through park at this time and if two Jack Russells would be enough to ward off your average serial killer) However as the mornings have been getting a bit lighter I have found myself captivated by early morning birdsong. (Number 8 on above list. This is definitely old age) I don't know anything about birds but I can hear how different they all sound.  The only one I recognise really is the robin which is very feisty and sings so loudly at us I keep expecting it to explode like the bird from Shreck. Other than that there are lots of shapes and sizes and various noises which I am struggling to match up to the birdies themselves. I would love to know about them. I'm not really a bird person as you can probably see.
I saw something once that said that most people's favourite bird was a penguin. Well obviously.

New life's ambition - to tickle a baby penguin. So penguins are top bird but they are not the only bird. Imagine if there were no other birds but penguins. How big would your bird table have to be? And your garden would smell of fish because that's what you would have to hang out for them in the winter. And what if your Nana still wanted to keep a birdy in the living room? How bad tempered would her penguin be having been stuffed into that little cage? Of course, penguins don't fly so if they still went south in the winter, would we have to charter special boats for them? Lets not even start on the problems they would have filling in for chickens.
Diversity is the key. The Biblical model of a body made up of many parts is a perfect picture of this. This works itself practically in two ways. Firstly, you are very valuable. No-one brings to this party what you do. You are a beautifully crafted, precious individual. Each one of us needs to get hold of that, accept it and lift your delicious Christian chin a little. Secondly, if only you can do what you can do and you are not doing it then it's not being done. (keep up at the back) Are we doing the things only we can do in our churches, our families - just our lives really? If something isn't working properly, is it because I'm not pulling my weight? We have to get hold of both sides of this. I am indeed a special individual but with that comes things that will not get done properly unless I get involved. Someone else might have a go at it but they may not be able to bring to the task what I could have brought and it also stops them doing what they are supposed to be doing. We all have an individual part to play. To quote an old Bolton proverb (sort of) "When the penguins are laying eggs in the chicken coop who will be starring in the David Attenborough documentaries?" And I think we can all relate to that.

Posts from Friday Blog link can be found here http://livingtopleasegod.blogspot.com/2012/01/nothing-can-separate-us-from-gods-love.html

Tiny Degrees of Recognition

I wanted to write about something as part of an occasional series I am doing. (Definition of "occasional" here is something I have never done before and possibly will never do again.) The series is entitled "Things that make me wish I was a rich and famous movie star." Actually, it's not me doing the wishing. It's Head of House. This week he read an article about Martin Freeman - currently filming the Hobbit in New Zealand and how the director Peter Jackson had flown out two Northern Soul DJs to play for him in his lunch break just because Martin likes them.  HOH was v. impressed. (I'm not so impressed. Bit awkward standing there on your own watching two DJ's do their stuff while you are trying to eat your egg sandwich. Maybe its just me.)
HOH, for it is he, has a history with Northern Soul. Indeed he loveth it. I personally am forever grateful that he is unlikely to ever be in a situation where he has to choose between me and owning a copy of the rare as hens' teeth "Do I Love You? (Indeed I Do)" by Frank Wilson because I'm not totally sure I would come out as winner of that particular battle.
I have no Northern background but over the years we have been married I have been to a few of the reunions  and heard a lot of the music and I like a lot of it. (EXCEPT there seems to be a lot of women singing about her man who treats her badly and sleeps around and how this is all really fine cos "no one will love her like he do" when quite plainly her man is in need of a smack in the face with a traffic cone - not so keen on those songs)
Anyway, I was very impressed when listening to some obscure Motown track he remarked that it sounded like it had been recorded in Los Angeles rather than Detroit. So he didn't know where it was recorded. It just sounded slightly different. (He was right, by the way) There you have the result of thirty years of listening to this music, attentively, appreciatively and often to the exclusion of all other types of music.
I was just thinking about how we would be if that was our relationship with God. So in touch and in tune. Sort of entwined in a dance of life and love. Then we would pick up on all the nuances of the way he felt about us. All the blessings and encouragements. All the teaching and the comfort. All the things we are supposed to be receiving daily and maybe half the time don't even notice. It's like any relationship or passion. It takes time, commitment and putting nurturing it before everything else to help it get a strong foothold in us. I suppose its up to us to make the decision about whether or not we think the end result is worth it and then act accordingly.

On a different note. Two prawns Montague and Christian live in the sea. Montague decided he didn't want to be a prawn any longer and asked the Magic Shark to turn him into a starfish. The Magic Shark did as he asked and for a few months Montague lived happily as a starfish. However soon he began to tire of this life and he missed his friend, so he went back to the Magic Shark and asked to be changed back. The Magic Shark told him that this wasn't in his power and instead he would have to visit the All Knowing Cod who could do the business. Montague visited the All Knowing Cod who happily changed him back to a prawn. But Christian did not believe that this could be done and would not meet his old friend. But, Montague persisted and ran after his friend shouting
"No! Come back! I met Cod and I'm a prawn again Christian!"
Sorry. (Thanks Russ)

Perspective

James 1:5
If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.

My problem (well one of them - don't get me going) is that I sometimes seem to be thirty years behind everyone else. This week I discovered J I Packer's "Knowing God". I fear that one day when all the books are opened and all the scrolls are unrolled, when God is examining my life in the manner of Mary Berry and Paul Hollywood examining a particularly unappealing Banana Loaf, He will look at me and say, "you did quite well - you were always just that little bit behind everyone else." Anyway - enough of my Judgement Day  issues, I need to digress here. Do you know how much I paid for Mr Packer's tome. Nothing! Not one of your English pounds. I downloaded it from a site Christianaudio It's an excellent idea. I bang these books on the MP3 to listen to on the way to work and thus arrive marginally less grumpy than I was when I set out. They have loads of special offers but don't just get the free stuff - I'm sure they have to eat as well.
So as I was saying before the digression overload. I excitedly mentioned this book to Head of House who, in what I thought was a quite dismissive way, pointed me in the direction of his own dog-eared copy while informing me that he thought that all serious Christians had this book. Pah!
Best story so far is about the wisdom of God. I am paraphrasing wildly as usual but  he talks about us assuming that God promising to give us wisdom means that we sort of get invited in to the central signal box at a railway station and we get to see all the trains that are coming in and going out, where they have come from and where they are going and what trains we can expect to see in the future. In short, we sometimes think that the promise of wisdom means we get to know everything. In practise though , we just get given what we need to know. Some of it we should know anyway because it's already there in the Word. It is a bit difficult though, especially in tough times, to give God the benefit of the doubt when we don't know the circumstances. Why should it be OK to leave all the big wisdomy decisions to God about our lives?
If I could just add a an illustration of my own. A few years ago my chap and I visited New York. One day we set off to visit the Empire State building. Head of House had investigated the route and we set off whistling and swinging our arms. However (and yes it was my fault - I never denied that) we I got a bit distracted by Bryant Park, where Woody Allen and Diane Keaton had posed  so we got a bit lost. And we just couldn't find the Empire State because New York is full of Skyscrapers! When you look up - that's all you can see. It took us nearly an hour to get back on track and find it. It was a bit tense by then as well. As I said - I admit it was my fault!
The next night, we had a meal in the Windows on the World. At the top of the World Trade Centre, when you looked out of the window, the first thing you saw was THE EMPIRE STATE. Easy. The difference was perspective. When we were lifted above everything that was going on at ground level, the whole thing looked different. There were no things blocking our eyeline. That is where God is - high and lifted up. Knowing the past, the future, the beginning, the end. I get bogged down with all there is to do, to experience, to suffer, to enjoy. God looks with a different perspective. He sees where it is going and, having planned ahead for us, expects us to trust him with the big picture. We simply cannot un-entangle ourselves enough to see the whole picture, and there will be things that we will never know the reason for and many of these things will be - well - not good. We will never understand everything. The trick is, I think, to back away from knowing everything and to ask for wisdom for the day. Wisdom to make the most of every opportunity that presents itself in our lives. Wisdom for our next plan or next conversation. That is probably what is promised. Mind you I'm not saying this is what I do. I'm much more of a "Do as I say" rather than a "Do as I do" when it comes to this sort of stuff. More's the pity.

January Dip.

I'm sitting in the middle of Plymouth weather. Ok, that's not strictly true - I'm not outside or anything. I'm just trying to add a bit of atmosphere. Suit yourselves.
Anyway - it's all so stereotypically early Januaryish at the moment. Fruit of Womb One has returned to York University taking his complicated politics essays with him. Fruit of Womb Two is back at school and agonising over The Crucible, medical discoveries of the eighteenth century and creating a garment from a paper pattern - not necessarily in that order. I am showing my ignorance I know but I had never read the Crucible before. There's not a lot of laughs in it are there? Head of House and I are back at work and I can only just fasten my pants. How New Yearish is all that?
Went to church this morning for first time since Christmas. The speaker was Jonathan Edwards - General Secretary of the Baptist Union. (Not to some of the youth's disappointment the laser-eyed, triple-jumping, athletics commentator. I suspect this feeling of bringing constant disappointment to people is something the Baptist Union Secretary is used to) Anyway. I thought he was rather good. Seemed very normal and nice. Didn't once threaten to raise a chicken from the dead to prove God's power, which I always feel is a plus point in any speaker's favour. Although he wasn't exactly packed to the drawstrings with good news. The financial situation in the country extends to the church apparently and these will be difficult times for us all. This probably explains the decision to close the Baptist Times which I read about this week. Apparently readership numbers are well down and they can't afford to subsidise it any more. I agree that they have to be sensible but I find this a bit depressing. Why isn't anyone reading any more? I know that the Internet has had an effect on everything but speaking like an old Christian woman that you have found in the woods - it seems like people just don't seem to read Christian books the same as we did. When I was a young luscious thing, we were all reading something. It was sort of expected that you would be lugging some sort of Christian paperback around in your handbag. Some were better than others obviously but there was so much out there and you just read loads. If you had a leader or a mentor they would always ask - "What are you reading at the moment?" It doesn't seem to be like that now. I love a bit of shallowness as much as the next person (witness my Strictly obsession before Christmas) but surely if something is as important as a Christian faith then it's worth going into a little more deeply than a Tweet? Is it me? Plus, to drag the tone down a bit. Reading is hot. As a teenager, I couldn't fancy someone who didn't read. Dangerously self obsessed those people are - trust me.
One problem is undoubtedly our busyness. I came across this idea though the Kindred of the Quiet Way blog. The idea of having a "landing strip" where you park everything as you come in  so it is all ready for you to pick it up and carry on the next day is pure genius I think. I also think it might help me in my Bible reading. Too often, I read something then close the book. I come to it next day with a limited amount of time - can't remember where I was so open it randomly at a particularly depressing bit in Jeremiah which I read out of context and then, in a fit of helplessness, try to trap my head in the door. Maybe, if when I put the Bible and notebook down, I do so in a way that is ready for me to pick it up and continue next time (Notebook, notes and pen ready, open at new page etc.) it will be helpful. You are probably already doing this. I'm going to give it a try. New Year and all that.

Finally, some friends came round for a meal last night. One of them is quite frightened of little dogs so thought she would use the visit to help her. How could anyone be afraid of these two lovely things, ready to greet people on the door? Well yes they are growling a bit - I'll give you that. Not sure the evening helped with dog terrors much but a good time had by all otherwise.

It's a cliche but...

..the New Year is on us again and despite resolutions to never make any more resolutions, I find I am looking at resolutions. I have read all the stuff about mid-winter not being a good time to do this kind of thing because it's dark and cold but, I can't seem to stop myself. Firstly, all the Thornton's chocolates, Pringles and Roast Potatoes have all left their mark on my waistline and something will need to be done about that immediately. It's no good waiting until the nights are shorter. I need to deal with these dig in marks my jeans are making now!
Also, there's not very much on the telly now. Christmas has exhausted the meagre supply of fairly decent stuff (except Sherlock is back...Sherlock is back... *does little happiness jig in kitchen*) and I would rather spend this time being a bit more introspective than sitting through "When Naked Celebrities Buy Cheese" or something similar.
And.. well it just feels right to be re-assessing a bit. It's the turn of the year- it's changed it's name -  we call this one 2012. I feel the least I can do is have a glance over the year that just went and have a think about what I wanted to change.
So - what to do? Apart from the aforementioned waistline issues, which, to be frank, usually resolve themselves when we run out of Thorntons and I am back walking to work and walking dogs and getting Fruit of Womb Two to bus stop on time and dealing with unsatisfactory cleanliness state of bathroom on a more regular basis etc etc.
I think I would sum it up by thinking about moving from thoughts to action. I read v interesting blog that sums it up well here . Lucy talks about moving from dreaming into action. That doesn't mean we give up dreaming but, for me, I should be looking at what I can actually do something about - rather than just hoping or praying that it will change - and then actually doing it. I find I waste a lot of time/energy thinking about things I would like to change on a personal/household/local/national/international/cosmic/hyper-space level and then struggle to summon up the motivation to switch the laptop on and actually write something.
So, what would I like to be doing in twelve months' time or this time next week? How much of is it up to me to actually do it? Looking at it from another level - maybe it's a bit like "Faith without works is dead." I'm not sharing any personal lofty ambitions with you. T'ain't nothing you need to worry your pretty heads about but I wanted to share the principle.
Thanks for coming back and reading this after Christmas absence. Decided to spend as much of Christmas break with whole family as possible while everyone was here. We did miss the boy and now we are about to send him back. Will miss him again. Will not miss stupid digital time clock sound from "24" which we can hear at all times of day and night as he is trying to make his way through the box set before he goes back.
Have a great week. Hope the change of posting day hasn't discombobulated you too much. Like to keep you on your toes...
Happy New Year from all at Hargreaves Towers