Ba dum ch.
More when I have time... miss you! x
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
I wish I wasn’t a punk rocker with flowers in my hair
OK I’m not. I don’t have flowers in my hair and, technically, am not really a punk rocker either.
But I sure as hell look like one.
Today, ladies and gents, is the next installment in my most major, nay famous, analogy. My hair cuts. (See here for the full hairstory.)
I have gone and gotten all controversial on 1 Corinthian 11’s ass. Which I will in due course (or not, I am aware I make empty promises when it comes to blogs and apologise. Please Matthew 18 me) be expounding on but today in not the day for biblical debates (I think that sounds more like a Tuesday thing doesn’t it?).
I no longer have face length hair. It doesn’t even cover my ears. In fact, some may argue that my whole attempt to have long locks has been somewhat marred by my decision to cut it all off to not more than 2 inches in any place.
‘Citing though, in’t it?
I have been this way since Monday. The title might suggest that I am not best please with the idea. “Getting tired of it already are you Kat(i)e?” I hear you cry. “That’s what happens when you make a whimsical decision on a bored impulse.” Should have stuck to the waiting slowly and repeatedly recolouring to bring myself into some kind of semblance of truth till I had fully grown through, maybe?
But the thing is, it was getting a bit much. Constant redying was a drain on the resources if nothing else and the effect did not really last very long ever and wasn’t always as good a match each time. It stood me in good stead for a time but the fact remains that some things are too damaged to repair and you do just need to cut off and start again.
And this does indeed fit in well with where I am at right now. Check out Ezekiel 39 (particularly vs. 12-16) and you will see my life story. As long as you can replace Israel with Kat(i)e; Gog with [insert terrors from the world here]; skeletons with assortment of left over memories, insecurities, traits, resentments, attachments etc etc and tweak a few other key phrases like bury, search party and land. The essence is there though and I am indeed 7 months on from doing some pretty big battles (in the spiritual sense) and have been, on my return, doing some major cleansing (a mixture of literal and symbolic) and burying (of people, possessions and thought patterns – metaphorically that is). The to-the-day “coincidences” have been uncanny and I have, during the week at my folks, been doing some more sorting out of actual stuff. I am cutting the crap and sometimes you just have to be drastic.
And that is what I did hairlistically speaking too. I chopped away at the ashen (as in a shade of blonde and post fire!) remains and salvaged the roots, where the true colour is at. Underneath it all I had enough new growth to make a proper style of it. Just.
And that just is what I don’t like so much. It is cool enough and faking it was hard work, but really I do want more. I want to have a bob again and be looking forward expectantly to it hitting my shoulder blades. And beyond…
But this all takes time. Patience. Waiting. At least I am back to "how I was intended". The remnants of the bleach attack are, aside from a few tiny wisps at the front, all but lost. The colour? Fabulously "ginge" ☺ Being at the start of what I know will be a long process is pretty daunting whilst not particularly pretty, but it is real. I'm getting established and am on my way.
Which also fits in with what I'm getting up to. Yesterday I was all organised, checking out about studying, organising support, paying bills, ringing the gas man, seeing the carpenter, sending off insurance papers. Today a few more errands and dealing with "household affairs". All the grown up stuff! Revolution is indeed in the air.
But I sure as hell look like one.
Today, ladies and gents, is the next installment in my most major, nay famous, analogy. My hair cuts. (See here for the full hairstory.)
I have gone and gotten all controversial on 1 Corinthian 11’s ass. Which I will in due course (or not, I am aware I make empty promises when it comes to blogs and apologise. Please Matthew 18 me) be expounding on but today in not the day for biblical debates (I think that sounds more like a Tuesday thing doesn’t it?).
I no longer have face length hair. It doesn’t even cover my ears. In fact, some may argue that my whole attempt to have long locks has been somewhat marred by my decision to cut it all off to not more than 2 inches in any place.
‘Citing though, in’t it?
I have been this way since Monday. The title might suggest that I am not best please with the idea. “Getting tired of it already are you Kat(i)e?” I hear you cry. “That’s what happens when you make a whimsical decision on a bored impulse.” Should have stuck to the waiting slowly and repeatedly recolouring to bring myself into some kind of semblance of truth till I had fully grown through, maybe?
But the thing is, it was getting a bit much. Constant redying was a drain on the resources if nothing else and the effect did not really last very long ever and wasn’t always as good a match each time. It stood me in good stead for a time but the fact remains that some things are too damaged to repair and you do just need to cut off and start again.
And this does indeed fit in well with where I am at right now. Check out Ezekiel 39 (particularly vs. 12-16) and you will see my life story. As long as you can replace Israel with Kat(i)e; Gog with [insert terrors from the world here]; skeletons with assortment of left over memories, insecurities, traits, resentments, attachments etc etc and tweak a few other key phrases like bury, search party and land. The essence is there though and I am indeed 7 months on from doing some pretty big battles (in the spiritual sense) and have been, on my return, doing some major cleansing (a mixture of literal and symbolic) and burying (of people, possessions and thought patterns – metaphorically that is). The to-the-day “coincidences” have been uncanny and I have, during the week at my folks, been doing some more sorting out of actual stuff. I am cutting the crap and sometimes you just have to be drastic.
And that is what I did hairlistically speaking too. I chopped away at the ashen (as in a shade of blonde and post fire!) remains and salvaged the roots, where the true colour is at. Underneath it all I had enough new growth to make a proper style of it. Just.
And that just is what I don’t like so much. It is cool enough and faking it was hard work, but really I do want more. I want to have a bob again and be looking forward expectantly to it hitting my shoulder blades. And beyond…
But this all takes time. Patience. Waiting. At least I am back to "how I was intended". The remnants of the bleach attack are, aside from a few tiny wisps at the front, all but lost. The colour? Fabulously "ginge" ☺ Being at the start of what I know will be a long process is pretty daunting whilst not particularly pretty, but it is real. I'm getting established and am on my way.
Which also fits in with what I'm getting up to. Yesterday I was all organised, checking out about studying, organising support, paying bills, ringing the gas man, seeing the carpenter, sending off insurance papers. Today a few more errands and dealing with "household affairs". All the grown up stuff! Revolution is indeed in the air.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Jesus is my Boyfriend, how about you?
I love the biblical book Song of Songs (though do have a question about it: I thought I had made a mistake when I called it Song of Solomon t'other day but now I think actually it is a translation thing and can be either - am I right or wong?). Aside from being hilarious in parts it has become to me an excellent way of realising the 1st love over the 2nd love. You can even start reading it with the girly ideals of husbandness (which shock horror I have felt on occasion) and get to the realisation that God is the one who does all that really good wooing and fulfilling. Tis really quite special, if you can look past the mental metaphors.
As a women I do feel I can relate rather well to the idea of being the bride of Christ. Nay, in line with the apparently classic North American teenage Christian teaching, I can quite happily consider Him to be my boyfriend for now (don't get me started on where the lines are in that relationship)! But I am all preprogrammed to seek a relationship with Mr Perfect... My question is, how do men do that?
As a women I do feel I can relate rather well to the idea of being the bride of Christ. Nay, in line with the apparently classic North American teenage Christian teaching, I can quite happily consider Him to be my boyfriend for now (don't get me started on where the lines are in that relationship)! But I am all preprogrammed to seek a relationship with Mr Perfect... My question is, how do men do that?
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Wendy
is my gorgeous black cocker spaniel. See?
Her and I have an incredible affinity, in keeping with the whole like your owner thing - a moody strumpet that loves to play but then gets very emotional in an instant and puts herself to bed. And lo and behold anyone who disturbs her there, the growling is her way of reminding you that one step closer and she will attack. Ask Robyn, I have a high adoreability threshold (subjective) but cross it and your life in my company is not worth living.
But I do need to learn to curb my emotions. I mean, sometimes I am somewhat legitimised in my feelings; sometimes I am physically and/or emotionally run down enough to use it as an excuse and get some pity afterwards; but never am I justified to be such a bitch.
Tonight I witnessed a scary and I do confess slightly comic thing. I was worried 'cause it produced a noise that made me think Wendy was possessed. I was amused 'cause it sounded like she was growling and hucking up huge amounts of phleghm at the same time. I was also moved to make an analogy. Alright, that last one was a bit of a lie. I was getting bored of the blog I was writing and figured (in keeping with my quick enthusiasm and short attention span) that I would start a new one.
My mum was trying to discipline Wendy. The vision is that one day she will be safe around small children. (Some might say it is about 3 years too late but good luck with trying mum!). Her method was teaching submission - pining the dog gently but firmly to the floor by the neck! Oh my it sounds cruel when you put it like that, but she got it off the telly (lol) and to be honest W was just pissed off at the idea and not really suffering at all.
Makes me think a bit about me and my discipline. Sometimes God takes us for lovely long flat walks along the canal, lets us stop when we get tired and it is always some beautiful scene or other and lovely weather. Then, just as you are enjoying life he comes along and sits on your neck. All for the benefit of being able to trust us with more important things and only a bit uncomfortable really, but not nearly as fun.
So, next time I am feeling the call to be subdued I should bear in mind that everyone else in the room will only be laughing if I make stupid noises, kick up a fuss, then go sulk in my basket. I think I would rather get the reward even if I don't like the feeling of being put in my place.
All this said, We must be careful with who is doing the discipline, or perhaps how we are doing it to others. Mum did admit (after a classic fail where Wendy just ended up grumpy and I swear to you glaring at us all from under that floppy fringe) that she had not actually seen the start or the end of the program.
So that's the tenuous message gleaned from an earlier moment of amusement. Be prepared to be submitted (if that is possible linguistically speaking) but please, be wary of people that don't really know what they're doing. Discernment is only good if it is used gently after all (thanks for that wisdom C).
A wrong move only makes a person more rebellious in the long run and then they might miss the important lessons. If your doing it, be careful; if you've experienced it, don't let it screw you up.
Ta ta! x
Her and I have an incredible affinity, in keeping with the whole like your owner thing - a moody strumpet that loves to play but then gets very emotional in an instant and puts herself to bed. And lo and behold anyone who disturbs her there, the growling is her way of reminding you that one step closer and she will attack. Ask Robyn, I have a high adoreability threshold (subjective) but cross it and your life in my company is not worth living.But I do need to learn to curb my emotions. I mean, sometimes I am somewhat legitimised in my feelings; sometimes I am physically and/or emotionally run down enough to use it as an excuse and get some pity afterwards; but never am I justified to be such a bitch.
Tonight I witnessed a scary and I do confess slightly comic thing. I was worried 'cause it produced a noise that made me think Wendy was possessed. I was amused 'cause it sounded like she was growling and hucking up huge amounts of phleghm at the same time. I was also moved to make an analogy. Alright, that last one was a bit of a lie. I was getting bored of the blog I was writing and figured (in keeping with my quick enthusiasm and short attention span) that I would start a new one.
My mum was trying to discipline Wendy. The vision is that one day she will be safe around small children. (Some might say it is about 3 years too late but good luck with trying mum!). Her method was teaching submission - pining the dog gently but firmly to the floor by the neck! Oh my it sounds cruel when you put it like that, but she got it off the telly (lol) and to be honest W was just pissed off at the idea and not really suffering at all.
Makes me think a bit about me and my discipline. Sometimes God takes us for lovely long flat walks along the canal, lets us stop when we get tired and it is always some beautiful scene or other and lovely weather. Then, just as you are enjoying life he comes along and sits on your neck. All for the benefit of being able to trust us with more important things and only a bit uncomfortable really, but not nearly as fun.
So, next time I am feeling the call to be subdued I should bear in mind that everyone else in the room will only be laughing if I make stupid noises, kick up a fuss, then go sulk in my basket. I think I would rather get the reward even if I don't like the feeling of being put in my place.
All this said, We must be careful with who is doing the discipline, or perhaps how we are doing it to others. Mum did admit (after a classic fail where Wendy just ended up grumpy and I swear to you glaring at us all from under that floppy fringe) that she had not actually seen the start or the end of the program.
So that's the tenuous message gleaned from an earlier moment of amusement. Be prepared to be submitted (if that is possible linguistically speaking) but please, be wary of people that don't really know what they're doing. Discernment is only good if it is used gently after all (thanks for that wisdom C).
A wrong move only makes a person more rebellious in the long run and then they might miss the important lessons. If your doing it, be careful; if you've experienced it, don't let it screw you up.
Ta ta! x
Let's talk about sex, baby
My dad was good friends at university with the man that made the rubber ring around the bottom of a condom. Isn't that funny? He apparently blames Jo Brand for getting made redundant. This is because they also made femidoms, the sales of which plummeted when she called them sleeping bags for mice!
Oh the hilarity.
Got me wondering about condoms though and, whilst not wanting to sound too catholic, I'm thinking about how beneficial they have actually been to humanity?
I mean, back in the day guys just used to spill their semen if they didn't want to get a girl pregnant...
Ok, I may have stooped a little low there. I apologise for grossing people out and I know that in a lot of ways (not least for people that are in commited relationships, nay marriages, and don't particularly want to get pregnant or do it the bible way) contraception is almost definitely a gift from God. I am also aware that somewhere somehow we have gotten ourselves into a viscious cycle. In the UK the campaign to get kids to use protection is called RESPECT and can be seen here: part I and part II. I find this incredibly frustrating (though I think I might be the only one) and wrote a rant about it all on Facebook time ago (pre-God I might add). So, lets have a read...
I am fed up...
...of the British advertising campaign that is encouraging kids to use condoms when they are practising promiscuous sex. I get that condoms are better than not-condoms but really you do not get "respect" for using them. You just don't get AIDs or pregnant. Stop trying to get down with the kids so that you can reach them on their level and then try and help them by sticking a plaster on a severed limb. They need to learn from people they really can "respect" how they can best live their lives and then maybe just maybe they won't be endangering themselves every time they feel the urges of puberty and don't have a clue how to deal with it. Isn't it time we took the next generation of Britain seriously and start looking out for their emotional, and dare I sat spiritual well being, not just tackling it based on the philosophy that "we better make sure they don't cost the social and health system too much" and calculate that TV ads and free contraception will cost us less in the interim.
It is funny that we can stand up and say "kids think about drugs, don't just take them cause your mates are and they are enticing", but when it comes to sex not even the 'grown ups' are prepared to think that maybe sometimes we ought not indulge. I mean, yeah it's natural, but so are pregnancy and disease and they seem like pretty good indicators of the significance of the act - it both creates and destroys life and we have come up with a thin latex film to protect ourselves from the consequences. We live in an "if it feels good do it and science is working on ways to reverse the natural consequences" basis.
I am not sure who this type of sex is safe for. It seems merely to be 'preserving' modern society's lifestyle choices and now the kids want to do it too we have had to justify it for them so that we can carry on guilt free. Today's youth are vastly uneducated, unloved, undisciplined, unguided and yet thoroughly overstimulated; and we choose to use television advertisements to offer them frankly shit advice, in place of the parental and wider community support that they are lacking.
There you have it. Idealistic rantings of an ineffective, condescending nature. The videos, terrible as they may be, are at least trying to do something about it; which is more than can be said for me :-(
Oh the hilarity.
Got me wondering about condoms though and, whilst not wanting to sound too catholic, I'm thinking about how beneficial they have actually been to humanity?
I mean, back in the day guys just used to spill their semen if they didn't want to get a girl pregnant...
Ok, I may have stooped a little low there. I apologise for grossing people out and I know that in a lot of ways (not least for people that are in commited relationships, nay marriages, and don't particularly want to get pregnant or do it the bible way) contraception is almost definitely a gift from God. I am also aware that somewhere somehow we have gotten ourselves into a viscious cycle. In the UK the campaign to get kids to use protection is called RESPECT and can be seen here: part I and part II. I find this incredibly frustrating (though I think I might be the only one) and wrote a rant about it all on Facebook time ago (pre-God I might add). So, lets have a read...
I am fed up...
...of the British advertising campaign that is encouraging kids to use condoms when they are practising promiscuous sex. I get that condoms are better than not-condoms but really you do not get "respect" for using them. You just don't get AIDs or pregnant. Stop trying to get down with the kids so that you can reach them on their level and then try and help them by sticking a plaster on a severed limb. They need to learn from people they really can "respect" how they can best live their lives and then maybe just maybe they won't be endangering themselves every time they feel the urges of puberty and don't have a clue how to deal with it. Isn't it time we took the next generation of Britain seriously and start looking out for their emotional, and dare I sat spiritual well being, not just tackling it based on the philosophy that "we better make sure they don't cost the social and health system too much" and calculate that TV ads and free contraception will cost us less in the interim.
It is funny that we can stand up and say "kids think about drugs, don't just take them cause your mates are and they are enticing", but when it comes to sex not even the 'grown ups' are prepared to think that maybe sometimes we ought not indulge. I mean, yeah it's natural, but so are pregnancy and disease and they seem like pretty good indicators of the significance of the act - it both creates and destroys life and we have come up with a thin latex film to protect ourselves from the consequences. We live in an "if it feels good do it and science is working on ways to reverse the natural consequences" basis.
I am not sure who this type of sex is safe for. It seems merely to be 'preserving' modern society's lifestyle choices and now the kids want to do it too we have had to justify it for them so that we can carry on guilt free. Today's youth are vastly uneducated, unloved, undisciplined, unguided and yet thoroughly overstimulated; and we choose to use television advertisements to offer them frankly shit advice, in place of the parental and wider community support that they are lacking.
There you have it. Idealistic rantings of an ineffective, condescending nature. The videos, terrible as they may be, are at least trying to do something about it; which is more than can be said for me :-(
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
It just don't make sense
Two ideas about Christian dating that make no sense to me. Any thoughts on the topic much appreciated.
I very much have the mindset that until we are satisfied by God, being with someone else can be trying to fill the need for His relationship with other stuff. I think I have been pretty clear on this. Getting right with God is priority and then if He so wishes He will bless one with a partner.
But then there is the whole 1 Corinthian 7 point of view that says you are to be with someone IF you can't deal with the matters of singleness. Be it lust, loneliness, dependency, insecurity or other. It is like marriage is what you do when you can't deal with being alone, not when you are content in aloneness.
So it stands to reason that if you are struggling in singleness you need to come to God to deal with it so that your relationship with Him is sorted and that He gets the priority. But then, once you deal with this you no longer need to get married 'cause He is enough and Paul says it is better not to.
Oversimplification perhaps but for this maths student the idea of marriage seems, therefore, to be what we do when we can't achieve sufficient intimacy with Jesus or affinity to the Kingdom. (Boy that sounds a lot more judgemental than I mean! I apply this equally to someone that is not married yet can't help but see the appeal and certainly don't actually mean that those who are have compromised their beliefs, just that I don't get it... hence the question.) Which definitely leaves an issue when it comes to the idea of ever dating someone - "Well baby, I wanna be with you 'cause I have failed in my faith". Not really gonna cut it as a classic Christian chat up line and I don't think relationships tinged with letting God down really do that well.
And then of course one must wonder where go forth and multiply comes into it. We can't ALL adopt singleness or there would very soon be no new people at all. Not to mention the fact that I feel obliged to play a part in populating the planet given that there are so many chav babies out there...
I very much have the mindset that until we are satisfied by God, being with someone else can be trying to fill the need for His relationship with other stuff. I think I have been pretty clear on this. Getting right with God is priority and then if He so wishes He will bless one with a partner.
But then there is the whole 1 Corinthian 7 point of view that says you are to be with someone IF you can't deal with the matters of singleness. Be it lust, loneliness, dependency, insecurity or other. It is like marriage is what you do when you can't deal with being alone, not when you are content in aloneness.
So it stands to reason that if you are struggling in singleness you need to come to God to deal with it so that your relationship with Him is sorted and that He gets the priority. But then, once you deal with this you no longer need to get married 'cause He is enough and Paul says it is better not to.
Oversimplification perhaps but for this maths student the idea of marriage seems, therefore, to be what we do when we can't achieve sufficient intimacy with Jesus or affinity to the Kingdom. (Boy that sounds a lot more judgemental than I mean! I apply this equally to someone that is not married yet can't help but see the appeal and certainly don't actually mean that those who are have compromised their beliefs, just that I don't get it... hence the question.) Which definitely leaves an issue when it comes to the idea of ever dating someone - "Well baby, I wanna be with you 'cause I have failed in my faith". Not really gonna cut it as a classic Christian chat up line and I don't think relationships tinged with letting God down really do that well.
And then of course one must wonder where go forth and multiply comes into it. We can't ALL adopt singleness or there would very soon be no new people at all. Not to mention the fact that I feel obliged to play a part in populating the planet given that there are so many chav babies out there...
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Convertsation (the spelling mistake that stays)
So. We are talking about Evangelism. Which is one of my more favourite things about Christianity. Not in a really condescending way or like, I am so good at being a confident Christian, I just enjoy having a totally ace, eternity spanning reason for talking to people I don't know. It justifies (wrongly) in my head the idea of being forward and chatty and my failings in the area fall far more in the sensitivity and boundary crossing camp.
Which doesn't matter too much with drunk people.
I haven't had as many opps to prostheletise (lol) recently as I did perhaps in GVA. It stands to reason that things come in seasons and I know that God plans different tasks for different times, not to mention rest. Often though, I associate being aware of His "set-ups" with being more tuned in with His will and I know that when I have a more submissive attitude then I end up in "God" scenarios like they're going out of fashion. It is just a matter of opening my eyes and being willing to compromise my own objectives.
[Aside: Taking this in the context of sustainable is hard, I struggle with the prospect of missed opportunity and not being up to task. Even sitting on a train for examples confuses me - am I supposed to constantly be in prayer for those around me; or just prayer in general; or read my bible; or some other Christian book; or some non-Christian book; or start a conversation; or listen to music... or play on my phone? The perfectionist in me struggles, fails, then gets guilty. The extremist in me burns out then crashes horrendously.]
Today I went to meet up with another pal from Genf. A lovely boy, John Mark (you may recall him? Left in Feb...) from the deep South of the U.S of A and I thoroughly enjoyed some good chat, visiting old haunts (quite lit places with ghosts of the past) in London and going to a BBQ rib house after which I spent the whole rest of the eve with a mandatory toothpick in my mouth! Fun times.
I then made it to Liverpool St Station with enough time to catch the 2318 train home and sat there reading my bible - I am adamant I will get to the end of Genesis by the end of this week. Whereupon a 60something gent sits next to me and comments that it is something you would not normally see at that time of night, in the station, particularly given my nose ring (a relatively new addition of which some of you may not be aware I realise). It was a classic and perfect opener and I don't doubt that his inclination to talk about my faith, buy me herbal tea and laugh at my jokes was a mixture of a deep rooted desire to find the truth... and a less deeprooted desire to enjoy my company while he waited for his train!
Needless to say I felt like walking away from this was just not in line with my duty, there was some good old fashion sowing and/or reaping to be done. I don't really know how I did at that, I didn't feel very convincing and he was, it turned out, an ex-lecturer. Had the whole "logic" thing working against him and I haven't taken that course yet... But I stay 'til the 0003 train and it was cool enough. The thing is it don't matter what I say really, God is the one that works in peoples' hearts, and there was something FABULOUS and out of both our control that happened.
A beggar came along and asked for 20p. I have, I think, made some small comment on how I feel about this. I "generously" gave him 50p and he said bless you (and he is right, it is far a more blessing for me to give that for him to receive). Following this, I turned to Tim (my new friend) and was like OK, let's hear it. I expected a bit of a "you know what they do with that" which I would have responded with "well, I need to show them love" which he would no doubt have pointed out as some kind of flaw in my faith.
As it happened he asked how much I gave, pulled out some loose change, offered me a pound and said would you please take this so I can tell you what I think of begging.
I was confused, bemused and took it to humour him. I thought it was some kind of analogy and accepted whereupon he explained, quite jollily, tipsily and endearingly, that times have changed; followed by something about being in Cairo. He was literally telling me stuff about his experiences of begging and it turned out the £1 was simply to buy my listening! Paying me to tolerate him was his words.
Lol. Talk about a set up. I then went through my list of thoughts - a few comments on not making an excuse to be dismissive, right to choose, their needs being greater, treating them as equal etc etc. Then, as my grand finale, I added that I believed when I gave to others that God gave far more back to me!! Jokes, he had gone and proven this without meaning to and realised it sufficiently that he wanted his pound back. Apparently it was not his intention to provide supporting evidence for my beliefs...!
I thought it was cool. God is pretty funny sometimes.
It all might sound really self-involved, like I think I have this great commission; but I do. Its called The Great Commission and is not exclusive to me. I think it is ironic that the more I have a grip on humility the more wow I get in my own life (and the inverse is also true obviously). Talk about a vicious cycle!
And so it begins again...
Which doesn't matter too much with drunk people.
I haven't had as many opps to prostheletise (lol) recently as I did perhaps in GVA. It stands to reason that things come in seasons and I know that God plans different tasks for different times, not to mention rest. Often though, I associate being aware of His "set-ups" with being more tuned in with His will and I know that when I have a more submissive attitude then I end up in "God" scenarios like they're going out of fashion. It is just a matter of opening my eyes and being willing to compromise my own objectives.
[Aside: Taking this in the context of sustainable is hard, I struggle with the prospect of missed opportunity and not being up to task. Even sitting on a train for examples confuses me - am I supposed to constantly be in prayer for those around me; or just prayer in general; or read my bible; or some other Christian book; or some non-Christian book; or start a conversation; or listen to music... or play on my phone? The perfectionist in me struggles, fails, then gets guilty. The extremist in me burns out then crashes horrendously.]
Today I went to meet up with another pal from Genf. A lovely boy, John Mark (you may recall him? Left in Feb...) from the deep South of the U.S of A and I thoroughly enjoyed some good chat, visiting old haunts (quite lit places with ghosts of the past) in London and going to a BBQ rib house after which I spent the whole rest of the eve with a mandatory toothpick in my mouth! Fun times.
I then made it to Liverpool St Station with enough time to catch the 2318 train home and sat there reading my bible - I am adamant I will get to the end of Genesis by the end of this week. Whereupon a 60something gent sits next to me and comments that it is something you would not normally see at that time of night, in the station, particularly given my nose ring (a relatively new addition of which some of you may not be aware I realise). It was a classic and perfect opener and I don't doubt that his inclination to talk about my faith, buy me herbal tea and laugh at my jokes was a mixture of a deep rooted desire to find the truth... and a less deeprooted desire to enjoy my company while he waited for his train!
Needless to say I felt like walking away from this was just not in line with my duty, there was some good old fashion sowing and/or reaping to be done. I don't really know how I did at that, I didn't feel very convincing and he was, it turned out, an ex-lecturer. Had the whole "logic" thing working against him and I haven't taken that course yet... But I stay 'til the 0003 train and it was cool enough. The thing is it don't matter what I say really, God is the one that works in peoples' hearts, and there was something FABULOUS and out of both our control that happened.
A beggar came along and asked for 20p. I have, I think, made some small comment on how I feel about this. I "generously" gave him 50p and he said bless you (and he is right, it is far a more blessing for me to give that for him to receive). Following this, I turned to Tim (my new friend) and was like OK, let's hear it. I expected a bit of a "you know what they do with that" which I would have responded with "well, I need to show them love" which he would no doubt have pointed out as some kind of flaw in my faith.
As it happened he asked how much I gave, pulled out some loose change, offered me a pound and said would you please take this so I can tell you what I think of begging.
I was confused, bemused and took it to humour him. I thought it was some kind of analogy and accepted whereupon he explained, quite jollily, tipsily and endearingly, that times have changed; followed by something about being in Cairo. He was literally telling me stuff about his experiences of begging and it turned out the £1 was simply to buy my listening! Paying me to tolerate him was his words.
Lol. Talk about a set up. I then went through my list of thoughts - a few comments on not making an excuse to be dismissive, right to choose, their needs being greater, treating them as equal etc etc. Then, as my grand finale, I added that I believed when I gave to others that God gave far more back to me!! Jokes, he had gone and proven this without meaning to and realised it sufficiently that he wanted his pound back. Apparently it was not his intention to provide supporting evidence for my beliefs...!
I thought it was cool. God is pretty funny sometimes.
It all might sound really self-involved, like I think I have this great commission; but I do. Its called The Great Commission and is not exclusive to me. I think it is ironic that the more I have a grip on humility the more wow I get in my own life (and the inverse is also true obviously). Talk about a vicious cycle!
And so it begins again...
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Anaesthesia is Wearing Off
When I got the placement in Geneva it really felt like I was being pushed out of the country. I applied 'cause it seemed like too good an opportunity to miss out on but I was comfortable in my existence, miserable though it was, and didn't actually want to go. Every stage of interview I went through I said "Yes" but only because I could not, reasonably, say “No”. I said to my mum back then that if I got offered the post I would probably do the same thing but I still spent my whole time making excuses for why it was not a good idea (they were crap by the way). As I made the phone call to refuse the offer, I remember the rainbow that I wrote about 2 posts ago and confirmed.
And so, in a moment, my life was changed.
When I went to La Suisse I took with me a lot of baggage (literally and figuratively speaking). There was a lot of unpacking that needed doing - it turned out that (metaphorically) I had gone and destroyed my heart completely and needed a transplant. At the time it was remarkable how I managed to let go so much of the past and just enjoy life again. With England in the background everything of before seemed a long way away and not at all important. With my new heart I was healed!
Yet there is a time to mourn and a time to dance. England is no longer a fuzzy memory but a very real and tangible place in which I reside. Amidst all the excitement about God giving to me everywhere that I put my foot I am realising that, though the battle is won, there are a lot of skeletons to bury.
It feels like, post-op and post-fabulous feeling of being made whole, the numbness is wearing off and with that I am aware of the tenderness around the incision.
Now, don't worry, I am not writing this in floods of tears. The main initial pain was incredibly avoided with the anaesthesia that is God's love. The new heart has been in place sufficiently long that rejection is unlikely and I still have a large number of carers to check I am stable and keep the wounds clean: Ana last night fed me the most sophisticated TV dinner known to man – stuffed trout with steamed veg, then totally let me vent to her; tonight I am off to house group with my sister and btw the leaders are North American which makes me feel strangely at home!
All of which is great 'cause while it heals I am at a higher risk of infection. For this reason I must be particularly vigilant with aftercare and staying away from major causes of disease till I am strong enough to “be a doctor” myself.
I just have to remember that the pain is part of the joy; acknowledging the past is part of the release from it. It needs to happen which is why I must neither avoid nor fear it. If I stayed in the Geneva mindset it would be akin to drug abuse, keeping anaesthetised long after appropriate and just running away. I know enough people that don’t face up to the emotional fall out of catastrophe to realise that this is the only way ahead. I don’t want to end up smacked off my head on pain killers – figuratively or not. Sometimes you just have to feel it.
But, and it is more of a huge J-Lo sized BUT, there is a huge difference with the inclusion of a new heart. My health is so much better that, while the tenderness is there, I am able to deal with the strain. Obviously it is the God aspect of that which makes a difference. I am fitter than ever before and it is sure not by my own strength.
I totally didn't realise (perhaps naïvely) that I still need to do this but I am content that it is all part of the process and that, one day, the scars will not hurt.
And so, over time, my life will yet again change.
[I didn’t write the rainbow post thinking I would write this a few days later by the way; it just seems to have fitted together as certain things have happened. Not surprising, God is cool like that.]
And so, in a moment, my life was changed.
When I went to La Suisse I took with me a lot of baggage (literally and figuratively speaking). There was a lot of unpacking that needed doing - it turned out that (metaphorically) I had gone and destroyed my heart completely and needed a transplant. At the time it was remarkable how I managed to let go so much of the past and just enjoy life again. With England in the background everything of before seemed a long way away and not at all important. With my new heart I was healed!
Yet there is a time to mourn and a time to dance. England is no longer a fuzzy memory but a very real and tangible place in which I reside. Amidst all the excitement about God giving to me everywhere that I put my foot I am realising that, though the battle is won, there are a lot of skeletons to bury.
It feels like, post-op and post-fabulous feeling of being made whole, the numbness is wearing off and with that I am aware of the tenderness around the incision.
Now, don't worry, I am not writing this in floods of tears. The main initial pain was incredibly avoided with the anaesthesia that is God's love. The new heart has been in place sufficiently long that rejection is unlikely and I still have a large number of carers to check I am stable and keep the wounds clean: Ana last night fed me the most sophisticated TV dinner known to man – stuffed trout with steamed veg, then totally let me vent to her; tonight I am off to house group with my sister and btw the leaders are North American which makes me feel strangely at home!
All of which is great 'cause while it heals I am at a higher risk of infection. For this reason I must be particularly vigilant with aftercare and staying away from major causes of disease till I am strong enough to “be a doctor” myself.
I just have to remember that the pain is part of the joy; acknowledging the past is part of the release from it. It needs to happen which is why I must neither avoid nor fear it. If I stayed in the Geneva mindset it would be akin to drug abuse, keeping anaesthetised long after appropriate and just running away. I know enough people that don’t face up to the emotional fall out of catastrophe to realise that this is the only way ahead. I don’t want to end up smacked off my head on pain killers – figuratively or not. Sometimes you just have to feel it.
But, and it is more of a huge J-Lo sized BUT, there is a huge difference with the inclusion of a new heart. My health is so much better that, while the tenderness is there, I am able to deal with the strain. Obviously it is the God aspect of that which makes a difference. I am fitter than ever before and it is sure not by my own strength.
I totally didn't realise (perhaps naïvely) that I still need to do this but I am content that it is all part of the process and that, one day, the scars will not hurt.
And so, over time, my life will yet again change.
[I didn’t write the rainbow post thinking I would write this a few days later by the way; it just seems to have fitted together as certain things have happened. Not surprising, God is cool like that.]
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
3% Battery
What to say what to say?
I am at a friend's house stealing their internet...
2%
I went to Salisbury to see a friend from GVA. That was nice. Good to know things are much the same in some respects.
Been having some strange dreams. Makes me think but perhaps I just think too much.
Things are much not the same in other respects. I am becoming a grown up. Sara said I looked practically staid.
Somethings don't change. I still stand firm in my belief in swearing. Though the appropriate contexts are much reducing.
1%
Much like my battery.
More anon...
I am at a friend's house stealing their internet...
2%
I went to Salisbury to see a friend from GVA. That was nice. Good to know things are much the same in some respects.
Been having some strange dreams. Makes me think but perhaps I just think too much.
Things are much not the same in other respects. I am becoming a grown up. Sara said I looked practically staid.
Somethings don't change. I still stand firm in my belief in swearing. Though the appropriate contexts are much reducing.
1%
Much like my battery.
More anon...
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Bows Are Back in Fashion
I’m publishing this post and last Thurs at the same time. That is because, lovely though it is, my little nest does not have much web action and I only have uni-based semi-reliable connections. Today I am coming to you from chez-ma-soeur though I actually wrote it last night. Sneaky eh?
So, while I cannot give you a run down on what church was like (as technically I have not been yet) I can give a bit of a low down on Bristol this week.
Well, it has rained a lot. An old friend from Woodies came to stay on Friday and that was great – I think she just came down to see if it was really true. Wonderful opportunity to connect with UK based Christians and do some pretty damn great bible study.
But it has rained a lot. Went to see Mamma Mia! for the second time with my dear sister this evening (Sat) which is amazing and I can’t decide if I prefer Colin or Pierce (spelling?) in spandex grooving out to Waterloo. I also enjoyed spending time with someone that I know is going to be an integral part in this next step of my journey.
It rained on the way back too.
Turns out, rain is a pretty standard part of life. And it is indeed lifegiving – we would be screwed without it. Sometimes, however, you can’t help but wish that there was a little less rain and a little more sparkly sunshineness. Specially in this hilly region of the West Country.
And so comes the analogy…
Rain, like pain, is a part of life. The sermon on the last day I was in Geneva was about accepting suffering and still finding joy. What really stuck out was the idea that we spend so long trying to avoid sufferance that we think it is a bad thing. But it is so clear that in suffering we come closer to God as we prove our faith (see bible to back up this statement) and for this reason should rejoice in it. It is through the fire that we are refined.
I am a little bit worried that God is preparing me to suffer. You know, when you hear a message a few times to the point that it becomes blogworthy? I watched on Friday night the movie, correction: film, Shadowlands. Story of C.S. Lewis. It was really good, I thought. The final fade out comment that he makes was that the pain is part of the joy; that you need to experience the two together. Today in Hebrews, having just been absentmindedly sing “O-B-E-Y obey your Heavenly Dad…” (kids song from EBCG), we read the bit - here - that talks about Jesus learning obedience through suffering meaning, not that Jesus was disobedient before then, but that His obedience was not proven until He did it despite what He had to bear.
I must admit, it is a little bit unnerving. I haven't exactly had to prove my obedience or test my faith. As yet.
But, one of my more fabulous favourite things of nature is the rainbow. This is because it depicts to me in theory what it means in practice. When I first visited Geneva, before I had even been offered the job, God showed me a rainbow in the jet and, though I was not a Christian and could not accept the symbolic significance of God’s promises, I could see clearly the idea that through the storm clouds shines a light and gives something beautiful.
[This isn't the same rainbow of that day in June 2007 (the big football is kinda a giveaway) but it is in the same place.]
And that, my friend, is exactly what the promises of God are about. We have the dark clouds of pain and suffering, the light of God shining through (post tenebras…) and then the glory of His fulfilled promises hangs over our lives.
So while it has rained a lot, and there are whisperings of suffering when it really does not feel like it and I really do not feel like it, I am glad that in all this Bristol has been going through a season of rainbows.
'Cause what with all the rain I have spotted a few this week... here is one that I snapped from my bedroom window t'other day:
[That's my communal garden out there... check out the washing line! Cute much?]
So yeah. Have some good solid biblical stuff to finish off with as far as suffering and growth goes. Check it out if you don't know what I mean: Romans 5:3-5.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Brizzle foe shizzle me dizzle
Just a quicky as I have to pop off and see yet another old friend this afternoon. Socialising is hard work, I don't think I will ever have time for a proper job.
You know when "they" say you can speak things over yourself? I hope that last statement is one of those things!
Bristol is cool. Cooler than me and my stupid faux 'hood talk. Here is something really cool on the wall of [one of] my local pub[s], not 5 minutes from home, that has appeared since I last lived here:
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Oh yes, it is a proper Bansky. How cool is dat? I will be challenging your graff pics Darryl, with him as a local artist... :-P
I went for lunch with my sister today which was nice. It's been fun finding new places to hang out, as old haunts have gone or changed... or haven't done either when they ought! Walking her back to work I met an old coursemate rounding the corner and was greeted with recognition, or so I thought. Me and C both respond the same and then look at each other in bewilderment while the girl in question then notices me for the first time. There was a moment of appreciable puzzlement. Confusion over it turns out my ex mathematician pal is now a colleague of ma soeur. What a small world we live in.
Other things I have been doing involve unpacking, chilling out, shopping (oh how good that is when you are justified in doing it!), making my little nest all cosy like, reading a bit of maths, doing a bit of colouring and painting, connecting with people "randomly", thinking A LOT about everything and trying to work out how to balance living an ethical life with living a feasible and fun life - but that's a whole post of its own...!
Yeah. My brain is slowly defrosting. Coming soon: pretentious overthoughout issues with no solutions...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
New Chapter, New Verse
1st of September was my first day back in Bristol. I moved here with my car jam packed, safe journey = total blessing, and I was slowly realising that this is it. The beginning of life in Bristol. Exactly a year on since when got to Geneva and was thinking 'maybe, just maybe, life will change from this' and now I am seeing the very real and definite truth of that.
10 days before I moved to La Suisse I became the "lucky" and proud owner of a very small, very cute lady-flat in Brizzle. Totally right for me, an absolutely blessing and I am looking forward to living in it and making my first home there. Perfect single Christian girl flat :-) When I lived there for a brief period last year I was like 'It's my new home!' and got really excited even though I knew it was only for ten days. That as it happens turned out to be a really amazing time in which I became best mates with Ana and was totally blessed by that friendship (yes my dear, I do consider you to be a gift from God!). It was also the period (and place) in which she met her man Dan with whom she is now old and boring with...!
So yesterday I came back one year on and it was one of those "waiting pays off" moments. When you realise really clearly that the concept of everything having a time and a place and whatnot is true and that letting things live out like that is the best thing. But with all the patience I had got the hang of, I clean forgot to get excited about the fact that this time IT IS IT!! I get to move in and make a home and put up whatever I like on the walls and not worry about keeping it sparse 'cause I am leaving at the end of the year. I am still only starting to realise it is for now and the waiting is over... and is was SO worth it.
And, like I had a 10 day taster of the flat, I also had a 10 day taster of Ana. Now I get her all the time! She was the first visitor I had and her and Dan helped me totally unload my car then dragged me off to their fantastic seaview pad in Portishead, ran me a bath, cooked me dinner and insulted me! Got to love having friends like that... It was such a perfect first day back and I was overwhelmed with the truth of the fact that life here is GREAT.
And so perspective changes again. I knew Bristol was going to be good but in Geneva it kinda took a backward step, blurry as it were with Switzerland in the foreground. Now they have changed places and, just as I loved Ana from afar but didn't get to eat her Thai, the same will be for GVA. Robyn's late-night-fruity-salad; Caro's not-as-green-as-I-expected-(but still very good!)-guacamole... Brian's mega-beast-of-an-omelette! Not to mention all the other wonderful people and things and food and places that I love and miss. But the good news is that I can get maple syrup here (thanks mum!) and I can use Skype, so really it don't matter too much. The blurry background is still very much a part of my bigger picture.
I'll leave you on some funnies and praises:
-When I was driving here I was like "God, I know you answer prayer and if you don't its 'cause you have a good reason for it and a better plan but really, I don't see what you would not want me to have a parking space right by my flat" - there it was directly opposite when I arrived. Allelujah!
-When I was talking to Dan and said it feels like a new chapter he asked me if nowadays I lived my life by chapter and verse... He also air kissed me goodbye this morning and said "I won't kiss you 'cause that's like 3rd base for you people". Christian jokes, got to love 'em! On a serious note I am really glad that we can keep our close friendship despite the changes. I know Ana was worried I'd be boring but I have proved to her that in fact she is more so - being all settled and loved up and all!
-As we walked along the harbour this morning (beautiful btw, I will get some piccies up) a local man asked us - in a really fabulous SW accent - whether the swan with it's leg out was OK or if he should call the RSPB. Then Dan was like 'no that swan is always like that, he has a dodgy leg but he's alright'. Love that there are locals that care and more so that there is a local swan. This place is cool.
So. Being back in the home town feels pretty good. Gert good in fact. As Annie, fellow ginger given a new start in life, would say:
I think I'm going to like it here.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Slow Motion
I am incredibly tired. Like, sitting down in the hall and lying still doing nothing for two hours once I've finished breakfast tired. I hate it. I have SO MUCH to do today: am in the middle of packing as I leave my parents house and head towards Bristol and the new home and life waiting for me there. I can only take what will fit into my Nissan Micra - the clue is in the name (MS I'll put up pics when I can be arsed) - and there is lots left behind that needs to be in some kind of semblance of order. All this and I just want to sit around. Even blogging is an effort.
It worries me. I don't like it one bit and am convinced I am ill. My mother on the other hand seems to think that it is perfectly normal that after a summer jam packed with activity, a final week of mayhem, moving countries, sorting out and moving house here, plus all the emotional jack that goes with it all, may take its toll. Well, I don't know. Maybe she's right. How pants is that, I really need to be able to go go go.
Or not. So apparently it is time to stop and rest and move at half speed for a while. I am just going to have to listen to my body and not have unreasonable expectations of myself. That is, after all, one of the grace killers and if I want to be in line with God's plans perhaps I will have to be content to not do very much.
September, it seems, is going to be a slow month but I suppose that fits in with where I am at right now. I took everything I possibly could from my time in Geneva, would have done more if I had the time. Now I just need to absorb it all and recoup. My body, it seems, is not taking anymore abuse! Plus I am starting 'school' in a month and would quite like to be on top form for that. Haven't done so well in the past and I must take the time to be the best prepared I can, that this time I really do it properly.
On top of this my mind too is half asleep so who knows what will happen to BGB? I won't have the internet where I am going, though apparently the whole harbourside in Bristol is now wireless (some change is good change - the indisputable example!), but the future is unclear... Maybe once the fog clears I'll let you know what the outcome of it all is.
See you around, though I will be slow and boring for a while so perhaps not!
It worries me. I don't like it one bit and am convinced I am ill. My mother on the other hand seems to think that it is perfectly normal that after a summer jam packed with activity, a final week of mayhem, moving countries, sorting out and moving house here, plus all the emotional jack that goes with it all, may take its toll. Well, I don't know. Maybe she's right. How pants is that, I really need to be able to go go go.
Or not. So apparently it is time to stop and rest and move at half speed for a while. I am just going to have to listen to my body and not have unreasonable expectations of myself. That is, after all, one of the grace killers and if I want to be in line with God's plans perhaps I will have to be content to not do very much.
September, it seems, is going to be a slow month but I suppose that fits in with where I am at right now. I took everything I possibly could from my time in Geneva, would have done more if I had the time. Now I just need to absorb it all and recoup. My body, it seems, is not taking anymore abuse! Plus I am starting 'school' in a month and would quite like to be on top form for that. Haven't done so well in the past and I must take the time to be the best prepared I can, that this time I really do it properly.
On top of this my mind too is half asleep so who knows what will happen to BGB? I won't have the internet where I am going, though apparently the whole harbourside in Bristol is now wireless (some change is good change - the indisputable example!), but the future is unclear... Maybe once the fog clears I'll let you know what the outcome of it all is.
See you around, though I will be slow and boring for a while so perhaps not!
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