Bye bye Baby, Baby bye bye

We like brit blondes and we cannot lie
You other brothers can’t deny
When a girl walks in in red white blue
And a platinum haircut too

We are charmed, wanna offer her tea
And fall down on bended knee
To praise and then start singing
“You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling”

Oh Lady, will you come and teach us
How to speak thus?
How could anyone refuse?
When she sounds like Julie Andrews

Ooh, Union-jack-clad-lass
If we could have your class
Well wouldn’t it be loverly
We’d dance (brit pronounc.) and say it properly

We’ve heard her question
To hell with discretion
She’s loud and smart
Got goin’ with a lot of heart

We’re tired of other girls
Sayin’ it’s all about looks and pearls
Take the average yagster and ask what he’d pick
She gotta have much wit

So, fellas! (Yeah!) Fellas! (Yeah!)
Has our Katie got the brit? (Hell yeah!)
Tell her to share it! (Share it!) Share it! (Share it!)
Give us somma your brit!

Baby got brit!

Today I share with you the lyrics that inspired the name Baby Got Brit. They were written for me by my darling friend, and most dedicated follower, Miss Spitfire, as a gift for my 22nd birthday almost a year ago. I have been waiting for an appropriate time to make this tribute but today I can wait no longer - for this is the last post I will make on BGB.

When I took a break and started to fast "Intermacy" I knew that over lent I would have to decide on the future nature of my blogging. I loved to blog, to share, to talk about myself (who doesn't?) and make insightful comments on life and what not. However, there was a line of divulgence that I had crossed unawares and, better late than never, I resolved to reset that line. What I didn't realise was that over lent God was going to show me so many things about myself that I would end up deciding on a lot more than my blog's future nature.

So, on one last crazy blow out of sharing, I will tell you a little bit of what He did in me.

Oh the hilarity of the analogy that I will use! It took me by surprise too but God, in true keeping with how well He knows me, gave me the most fabulous of metaphors that I may treasure and delight it when putting my old self to death becomes just a little too tough. For that is, in effect, what is going on here. This milestone I am accepting on a whole new level exactly what it means to sacrifice even the most fundamental characteristics of Who I Am, in order that I rest upon the secure foundation of Jesus. So many things in me testify to insecurity and, try as I might, that does not change with self-defense or justification... be it the language I use, the things that I own (or obsessively collect!), the way I share my Romans 7 nature in an attempt to rid myself of shame...

At the risk of being too open let's move on and see what it is that spoke to me about this.

Jade Goody.

Oh yes! I too was surprised when I eventually worked it out but it makes such sense.

So who was this star of British reality TV? A loud, bolshy, fun loving, foolish, needy, attention seeking, proud, loving, funny, ridiculous, extreme, verbose (or gobby!), messy, sinful, lovable, broken, indiscrete, unrefined, annoying, genuine, hopeful, hard working, "true-to-herself" girl. All these things and more were said about her at her funeral last weekend. She remains an icon of Great Britishness and, though often slated in the papers and renown for making a spectacle of herself, many people had soft hearts for her and her honesty. Especially towards the end as she battled with cervical cancer and eventually died on the 22nd March.

I once wrote about changing yourself for other people. I remember the gist, though it feels like a long time ago. I think that Jade held strongly to some of the things I was questioning then to do with compromising for other people vs being assured in your own identity. After facing a lot of criticism from very unloving sources I suppose it becomes easy to take ones own standard as the most important and strongly discount the opinions of anyone that don't very very clearly demonstrate love. But the thing is, despite all the things that I latch on to in myself, it is not me that I am accountable to. I can be as immutable in my attitude as I like but until my attitude is totally in line with His then I have not reached my goal... and to progress on a journey we must move.

The story of Jade and I is this:

The whole world knew she was dying, they'd found out months ago and it's been constantly covered by the media ever since. Yet I had somehow missed it. On 28th Feb this year I found out... then just 3 weeks later (wow, it felt longer) she was gone.

Now, I wasn't a fan of her. Not at all in fact. When she was first on Big Brother I thought her ridiculous, hideous, pathetic, idiotic, desperate... the works. She became a background amusement but I never had an ounce of respect for her. Yet when all this came to light, and with the news that she had apparently become a Christian too, I strangely felt emphatically passionate. Like I loved her and wanted to tell her and encourage her and explain that she was special and her faults didn't matter and I was sorry for judging her. I thought it was because I was a Christian now, I suppose that's true in a wider sense. I also wanted her to understand just how huge and amazing her new hope in Jesus was, that He could actually heal her and transform her as well as bring her peace. I wished I could break into the world of PR that couldn't affirm this truth - I even wrote her a song! I thought this was because I have a heart to see a break through of miraculous power and healing that points towards God and shakes the nation. All these things are true, yet somehow there was more...

One friend said to me that he thought I had an unhealthy obsession with her. I tried to explain that I was not idolising Jade, far from it, I wanted to recognise her as a actual person. They said I couldn't do that as I didn't know her. I didn't tell them that I felt like I did... I had no justification at all for that. I even noted to myself the irony that, as she died her death in the public eye (doing interviews to the end and raising money to support her two boys) the whole world reported on it and I, in all my sincere passion, had not written one blog. It was like because it was real it was private.

In her last months the heat was turned up under Jade and I came to realise it was in the fire of refinement that I saw synonymy between her and I. This verse in Isaiah 43 (that I do believe was left for me in a comment here) has been a real comfort to me recently and it became the chorus for the song I wrote her:

You'll walk through the fire and you won't get burned
You're just being refined and there's a lot to learn
But you've got God on your side
And you're making Him smile
It's the Daddy's pride
And it's all worthwhile

I found that I was singing it to myself a fair amount too.

But it wasn't until the night of the day of the funeral that it hit me just why I was so moved for her: I too was coming to the end of my "Jaded" period in life. Not that I will suddenly be made perfect, but hopefully I am significantly moving on from the false bold securities that I have. That is, after all, what refinement is about - being made really hot (and bothered) until only the Good stuff remains.

So, as I didn't report on her journey to the grave, I also didn't blog mine... until now.

For I think that Baby Got Brit, with all it's "charm" and flippant public intimacy, is symbolic of what I am being refined away from. Not that there is anything wrong with who I have been in the process - loving Jade so very very much made me see just how OK it is to have faults; and the soft spot I had for her has been releasing in terms of my own masked shame. But in aspiring for her healing and growth, nay transformation, I realise that I must aspire for my own.

For Baby you are lovely but, aside from all the issues with content, quantity, being totally tangled in direction, the disorganisation in your tags, incontinuity to your themes, out-dated picture and lack of returning back to the hundreds of things you start to mention... aside from all this and more is the simple truth that you are no longer Kat(i)e.

Why not?

I am not platinum now - we all know how significant the hair is.

The girl that went to Paris and met the pilots (reference in the second verse) was a lifetime ago :)

I don't actually say "to h*ll with discretion anymore", I think sometimes it may have its uses!

SHOCK HORROR at the asterisk above - As far as my thoughts on swearing go, in short: I still think it is subjective; it is definitely about the heart; I found out I didn't have as much control over my tongue as I would have liked; I knew that the perception of others is part of the question but I've realised that trying to change that is a tough battle and I want to pick the ones that are most important - I don't think this is one of them.

As for the name, well... I am not a "citizen of the world" anymore so, though Britain will always be close to my heart, I don't want to make it part of my identity. Plus, who knows where God will take me...!

And then there is "Baby".

It has been quite a journey, this blog. From before I even properly made the call to be a Jesus-follower, through my rebirth, all the early questions and now this period of refinement and preparation. I have pretty much exhausted the "observations of a recent convert" theme and, though I have loved it, it is time to let go and move on to something bigger and better. After all, Paul did say:

"When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things." 1 Corinthians 13:11

In all seriousness, the distance I have been brought in the past year astounds me and, actually, I don't want to pretend that I am not weaned. And not just because I am nearly at the age that I think adulthood begins...! I feel different. However scary moving on is, it is time to do it. Life is a race and that means forward motion.

So. Bye bye Baby. Immature, British, brash, broken. I hope it doesn't seem like I'm slagging Jade off - I love us both. I just know that the time has come for a part of me to embrace the same fate as her and wave goodbye to everything that doesn't stand up to the baptism of fire.

Jade Goody. Don't you love that name? The two sides to her summed up... how could this larger than life character be anything but a powerful symbol of modern human "reality" that will be profound to the end - where she found the true reality of a hope that defeats death?

So now I step back from the public eye as she finally has and, laying down my defenses, die to my old self. But then, through the power of Easter, I can rise again a New Creation; as she too has found her resurrection in Christ!


So, what is this New Creation? Mostly off-line actually!

But I don't want to stop blogging just yet. ['Phewww' I hear, from those dedicated few that made it to this point in The Longest Blog Post Ever Written!] I have, instead, identified a sub-theme that I wish to extract from my ramblings and isolate in a new inter-web location. That is:

Analogy!

I know I know, if bloggers are better known for anything than they are for over-divulging it is their tacky metaphors. But I Don't Care! I can't help it, I love 'em and find them all the time, everywhere. I can even justify this with a verse:

"Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely." 1 Corinthians 13:12

To me this just expresses perfectly what it is about analogy that is so significant - how actually everything is an imperfect metaphor for (or isomorphic subset of) the ultimate truth. And what do you know, it comes directly after the verse about putting away childish things. As one door closes, another opens...!

It won't be about my life per se. I think that moving focus away from ourselves is actually quite important, particularly for self-indulgent "media hungry" lil' old me. I will explain more in the new location:

www.analogisethat.blogspot.com

Basically, though, I want to ponder more, divulge less and say what I observe not what I do.

It's not gonna be all stuffy poetic pretentious nonsense mind. Nor will I lose my "cool edge" as I am changed. This can often be the fear/criticism: that when we let God take over our lives we become that certain sort of "religious" (as in not the James kind) loser that is prim, ghastly, monotone and void of individuality. I reckon that God, in all His infinite enormity, has enough facets that we could all take on His image and still be entirely unique and different from each other. This is why I am not terrified of reformation...

That, and perfect love casts out all fear. God must be the only person (I don't mean person, but what else can one say?) who loves us so perfectly that His constructive criticism melts hearts instead of puts up defenses.

So BGB is laid to rest in peace; or goes toddling onwards and upwards if you prefer.

And as I read all the lovely things Miss S wrote about me back then I wonder if, though some fade away, others might increase over time...? Perhaps. I do hope so. The worth of what I am becoming so outweighs the losses that, though goodbyes are sad, it is all I can do. All I want to do. As a wise man once said, sometimes something has to die before something else can come to life and grow.

While we are yet to be made perfect there will always need to be endings; the important thing is to look forward to what begins next, whatever that may be... One thing of which I am sure: it won't make me cry.

War of Intuition: A Platonistic, Non-Foundational Approach to Maths

So I have a title (for my big nasty essay). It's far too pretentious to keep but I like it for now. My thought is that maths as we know it is just a shadow of the truth, that we can use different and overlapping theories (pluralities, sets etc) as analogies but that we can never fully get the right picture and that is because the truth is outside of our "set" or "language" and so we cannot fully comprehend. Like with Plato and his good old shadows of Forms or, I don't know, say Paul and his poor reflections.

Analogies, allegories, parables... they all seem to serve a good purpose. It's kinda the way of the world and not just a communication tool. Maybe it's just me "seeing" semblances of truth in everything I do and the stretching it to a contentious metaphor but it seems that everywhere there are signs of something else, something bigger: hair cuts, Disney songs, a moment with a friend, a great picture, a poem, a cool proof, a new political appointment (OK I am a bit Obama-happy right now!), a mundane task or a speed limit on the motorway. We can see some great truth in a million different tiny things and it's like some kind of set hierarchy when the little extends to the big. Or a fractal where it just keeps getting reiterated larger and larger but always the same basic form. Or when, maybe you glimpse eternity 'cause of a perfect shopping trip or well-timed doctors appointment. All these things are made of something bigger.

Now. All I have to do is express this without relying on the bible to backup what I say. More to the point, I have to rely on stuff that is far more complicated and bizarre (which is saying something) and show some kind of pretense that I know what any of that jazz is about, without talking too much about Cheerios or saying "well, Duh, it's obvious...". Which is hard 'cause that seems to be all that the proper Philosophers do.

But I do have a temporary title, which is sort-of progress.

Clearer Vision

There has been so much learning going on this "season". It's cool but it sure isn't conducive to writing snappy thought-out posts. Which is, clearly, what BGB is all about. Hmmm, what I have I been doing in my regular life then, if faith is too much to discuss...

I bought new glasses! It took me 2.5 hours to choose them which was terrible and I wanted to die and there were about 4 staff members trying to help me pick them out till they all got fed up. I finally found my second pair (it was buy one get one free) when a women started getting unopened stock out for me to see - what with me having tried everything on the shop floor.

But, after much patience and waiting, wanting things to be right and them not being, stressing and feeling terrible for stressing other people, pretending I was nearly there when I wasn't and very very almost compromising... I got the poifick pair. Really really good. (I actually got 3 in the end: red like when I was small, black funky-secretary style and a really cheap granny round pair from the really cheap granny round range.) I tried and tried to make it happen but in the end I simply had to be rescued by something that was totally out of my control. Even praying was not bringing a direct result and I was terrified I would keep stalemating till I freaked out; yet eventually I loved what I came away with and they could not be better.

Maybe there is something in that. At a time when all my anger, pain and bitterness towards past friends, not-so-friends, God, you name it suddenly hit me (just when I thought it had all gone) and seemed to totally overwhelm my "walk", I got a little message whilst at church to do with the Exodus. Particularly this bit. My Egyptians, whatever, whoever they are, are riding over the distant sand dune and gaining on me. Nowhere to run to. No more forcing it I have nothing left to give, I am trapped by the red sea and desperate. Yet, I am being promised deliverance. When there is no hope and no way out there is light at the end of the tunnel (or perhaps damp sand at the bottom of a miraculous passageway). Dude it even follows the baby analogy of a few posts ago (teehee, deliverance you get it?).

I really can't force this. I have to stop. I may look like I am walking in sin and messing up and being unrighteous and everything but there is no use in having a faith that is grounded in work and obligation. I can't possibly do this. I have tried everything and nothing is right and now I am waiting for the answer that cannot be picked off a shelf and chosen by me to suit - he is going to have to hand me the perfect fit. Which is cool because that is the verse that comes next. I am not fighting this one, regardless of what Timothy says. 'Tis not for me actually Haggai, I am on a different page.

Once again I have started on the mundane and gone on to stretch a ridiculous analogy. I don't care, I like it.

Night x

The Analogy That Keeps on Giving

I am waiting for growth. Enjoying it short while it lasts. Surely I can let the metaphor go for a while.

But no! What's happened now? I hear you ask. Is the style growing out, maybe I got a trim or a perm (wow that would not work at all)? I actually think that the shape is doing OK. I may or may not tidy it up when I get back to London but it seems to have lasted alright.

I have simply made an insightful observation based upon pre-existing features.

Before I got the chop and went for the "cut the crap and start again approach" to my hair. I was trying to bring it back to ginge (which, in case you didn't know due to repeated brainwashing of jealous people, is a wonderful colour akin to gold and totally cool) the artificial and "fast-tracked" way. That is through dye. The latest time I tried this, when my roots were already at least an inch long, they used an "organic permanent mix" instead of the usual semi as it would be better for the condition. Organic you say? Bring it on I say. BUT, you know what this means? The bit of root I had that ended up being the bulk of the short drastic 'starting again' haircut was actually dyed.

Which meant that I turned out to be more ginger than I actually am naturally.

Only fractionally, maybe a shade more orange, but it does notice in the right light (now my true true roots are coming through) and the overall effect is subtly but significantly brighter.

And this is where it gets clever see. I have been thinking about how maybe I have been being a bit "too" Christian of late. Like, it started out funny and it still is a lot of the time but I don't want to become someone that is all about generic identity and forgetting the fearfully and wonderfully made part.

Looking for your new identity in Christ can be hard, particularly when there are things in your old identity that are tied in with negative conotations. The temptation is to say these things I knew about me are wrong and I need to "find myself" again but you know what, Jesus has already found me. I once was lost but he left those 99 sheep to look for me and is now rejoicing over me with singing. Along with all the angels. I just need to take out the bits of debris that I picked up in the wilderness.

For example: I talk a lot. I mean a lot. There are good things in this. Some of my friends have really encouraged me with statements such as "I like it 'cause it means I don't have to" and it sure comes in handy with some people some of the time and certain types of in-your-face evangelism. But this verbosity has been a bit of point of tension for me, particularly recently since, delightful character trait though it is, it becomes hard to pretend that being "too much" is always other people's problem. I mean, you seldom hear people say that Russell Brand just isn't understood properly and should be put in charge of more things, do you?! Unless you hear it from me that is... "They just can't handle me" was not something that Paul said about mixing with both the Jews and Gentiles etc. So from this came the temptation to believe, based upon the times that I miss the mark, that I am actually just totally wrong in myself. I sure didn't want to live in denial of things I need to change.

The idea of refinement vs rejection of these qualities got a bit muddled up till I wasn't really sure where the old me and the new me changed over. I know I do get it wrong and have a tendency to sometimes speak compulsively and without due care and attention but I didn't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and assassinating my whole unique character seemed a bit drastic. Confusing.

But the hair thing helps a lot.

As I see it, I am a hell of a lot closer to natural than platinum blonde was. In all the process of trying to force myself into God's identity for me I just got a bit carried away and over did it. But it is relatively small, it will not last forever and it isn't a bad bad match. In time the ends will become a smaller ratio of dyed to real and then, little by little, get trimmed away. (Mum, could you book me that appointment actually please!)

People that know me of late think I'm a bit off the wall; people that knew me before Switzerland think I have calmed down a lot; people that watched it happen... I don't really know what they think...! But somewhere in the middle of all this is a happy balance and I just need to peace out and let God make it happen. In time. As I wait patiently and don't try and force it 'cause actually that don't work. I am alright. I am not perfect. I am in the best possible hands.

When was in GVA and we did the gig (a prime time for God showing me insecurities I forgot I had) we dressed up in *quite* silly outfits. Both my other band members (which is why I am putting their pic up too! Share the responsibility...) wanted orange hair and I am game for most things. So we did this:

Which now screams to me to be the perfect symbol of what I am not supposed to do. Put on make up and fake it to make the issues go away. I ain't conforming for anyone, it isn't about being as orange as I can (fun though it sometimes is!) but about being as orange as I am supposed to be. The blonde in strawberry blonde is there for a reason.

Best of both. Like hovis only not bread.

Bah Humbug

I am such a boring old fart. I've had it with Christmas parties. Everyone pretending it is going to be amazing when really it is just hyped up normal time but with people more uncomfortable, stressed, with silly expectations and sore feet. Don't get me wrong, all 4 of the ones I've been to so far have been enjoyable (went to a Ceilidh tonight!)... but it's hard work to keep merry for that long and I usually want to be at home curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea.

I really am old before my time. But it is difficult. I go to uni with people who are all at least 2 years younger than me and I already feel older than I am most of the time (I keep accidentally lying about my age). I hate being a student. I hate the stereotype and the funny hours and the lack of respect and the way people assume you like to stay up late and get wasted. I don't. I like to stay up late and write my blog and if I do drink alcohol I almost always want to fall asleep afterwards.

I still love learning. I have that to be thankful for. Today I had an exam worth 25% of my French unit and, while there are loads of things that weren't amazing and the listening was chronic, I was a bit prepared. And all because I did work! Which sounds pathetic and I don't want to self curse but I do find work very very hard to concentrate on. But today, in the space of about 5.5 hours I did I'd say at least 2.5 worth. Mixed up with chilling and eating and showering and playing the piano and all other good stuff. OK it sounds ridiculous but for me that was a miracle and a sign, a HUGE sign, that God is actually working in my life.

My second presentation last week was another one. The first I did before visiting La Suisse and I was grateful I managed to do anything (I had been so scared it wouldn't work out and I would lose all faith in God). The second one I genuinely believed that He would be there and He was. I remember saying to myself that this was not going to be fun but it was going to happen... and it did! And it went quite OK too - got a few laughs and that's what philosophy of maths is about afterall... I actually feel more faithful. I think.

What am I even talking about? There are two points me thinks. I am amazed and delighted that my work is starting to turn a corner. I am a boring Scrooge today that has lost her Christmas cheer and feels in limbo.

But I must remember what dear Jo said to me tonight. It was about my hair. She has wonderful long locks that I want badly but she said that sometimes she just wants to be short and choppy and crazy. That I need to get it out on my system now so that when I have it long I won't pine for the funky times. Transferring that to the analogy and fit it together with some of the other disconnected thoughts I've been having recently and I suppose one could say I need to live young, free and single while it lasts. Enjoy the journey, enjoy the crazy funky cool mystery that is not really knowing what is going on and be fresh while I still am (given that I am not actually physically that old comparatively and definitely not spiritually). I don't really know how much longer the hair will be short anyway. Could be weeks, could be years. Better make the most of it! Spike it up a bit and don't force the parting before it is really there...

I am just hoping I can do these things from the comfort of my own living room.

P.S. My blogging is off form at the moment. Sorry. Don't give up, I've got some good 'uns up my sleeve... Laters.

Live Repentance feat. Analogy

I don't know what to blog about! I have lots of things I could do - both trivial and non - but I don't know which one to choose. I feel like writing about what is most recent given that would be the freshest "off the press" story and some of the others can go on hold easily... But there are even so many recent things to distill.

Had a great morning full of answers to prayer to do with work and hugely augmented faith as a result. Bit of a crash in the middle which I am putting down to Satan being so annoyed at earlier victory but with a great boost from a very well-timed sister! Amazing evening with my girlies which would take a lot of background info but was very inspired and boosting and wonderful... and then there was the drive home.

Not much has happened since I got in the door so I suppose that is the most recent thing.

I have a car. It is a bit of a luxury as a student. Especially given how safe and functional it is! I know I talk about environment and consumerism but I think that this car is OK and, selfishness aside, I will try and justify it. I see it very much as a gift from God and as such try and use it for other people where possible. Not in a "wow I'm holy way" but you know the bible says for those that use their gifts more is given and for those that don't they will be taken away - I figure if I give people lifts I may get my VW camper and if I don't I may have to take the bus. It's a nobrainer! Anyway. I have recently been able to do this a lot. It's cold and dark and there has been a bit of prowler around Brizzle but in that I have been picking up and dropping off girls and, well, I suppose letting God use me to protect them. I love it! So I was thanking him for this tonight when I took my friends home and it led me onto the story of how I got Valerie (the car). Which made me realise in turn some things that I probably needed to repent of! You can be my witnesses.

When I passed my test, back in the summer of '06, I didn't think I'd get a car. Then a friend of a friend was getting rid of their's and offered it my way. Even that was a God thing (not just 'cause they were a Christian) as it really did bless me tons and gave me a sense of freedom and security at a time when I was a bit unsettled and very not free. In honour of the Christianess of the gift I called the car Eli. It was defo a boy and I thought it was a cool name. Well then, a short way into the first term of the next academic year I had a little accident. First POI (point of impetus!): forgive and let go of blame in that - the person who did not indicate, the person who pissed me off before I got in the car, myself for being a numpty. CHECK. I still drove Eli for ages unrepaired, irresponsibly I suppose but the indicator worked - just. I'm sorry for that too - doesn't really show much love does it. When I got home at Christmas, the last day of term in fact (driving on the M25 to be specific) it finally gave up. I get home and I could not go right without waving an arm. Pretty cool stuff that it lasted till then exactly so thanks God!

It was a clear write-off. A car that cost a penny for legalistic ownership sakes was really not worth replacing the whole front and side of. Rubbish. Or not... here's a cunning tip for you kids: if you want a car get one that is cheap and dangerous, put all your brothers and sisters and their spouses in it, go visit the parents, then drive off in the dark with the bonnet making a noise as it scrape along the ground. This happened in the middle of the term and... well... long story short there was an early 21st present waiting for me back home!

The short story long is that they had been so distressed by this scenario that they decided I had to have a new car and it had to be before my birthday (in April) so it would come at Christmas. They chose it carefully and were going to surprise me with it in the new year just before I drove back but seeing my car at a new level of atrocity they ended up telling me straight away. I couldn't get it till the end of the hols 'cause one of the reasons they acted early was so it could first be used by this lovely missionary couple we know that visit England every Christmas back from their project in Uganda.

Well, needless to say I was delighted! Of course they were welcome to the car for now, I was the luckiest girl already. My wheels now had a roll cage! More than than even (important though it is I'm sure) it had a radio controlled lock and CD player!! OK, the crunch time was that it was a Nissan Micra new style... the girliest middle age car ever made and with a weird face at the front. The funny thing about this was that my parents had bought one 6 months prior (which is why they knew it was good) and at the time I had told them not to 'cause I hated them! Lol, that is so them not to remember, how endearing - I was so excited it didn't really matter.

'Cept when there is a though of negativity, even a little bit, there tends to be a build up of frustration in relationships. We say things are OK and push on trying to make it so, telling ourselves that we are bad for feeling, well ingratitude for example. Meanwhile it boils beneath the surface unless you deal with it or it erupts. Forcing loving ain't possible - it needs to come from God or it won't be lasting and for that we need to confess and ask him to help.

I can see you looking shocked that I ever had a problem, even for a minute, with this situation. What can I say - I told you I'm not holy. Spoiled brat comes to mind right...? Well, I agree. I'm all about exposing the past crap and the lies that bring us to that place and you know what, as I told this story to my car full of friends I realised that some of it just never got officially addressed. People at my church talk about "doing business with God" which makes me cringe but it does kinda have a point too. I often find myself saying "I'll do it later" and I realise that sometimes I find it hard to make time and concentrate and bring these things before Him. Well maybe that "another day" attitude is something that we get from Satan trying to stop us dealing with things that we'd benefit "settling up the account" over. So I'm doing it now, live as it were (!) to make sure I don't let that happen.

What happened then? Well Mum and Dad aren't hearing this for the first time - they did eventually bear the fall out of these pent up thoughts. Sorry 'bout that by the way - I'll ring you and do it properly, but sorry. I needed a bit of practise before the motorway trip so I took their Nissan for spin round Sainsbury's car park and it was then that I had a bit of a stress. The thing is Eli (who was a Mazda LX 121) had this really big square back window with visibility to die for (or not!) and I could park easily and see to the left and right and all kinds of good stuff like that. Check him out:

Suddenly a modern car with side bars and rounded design and safely features just didn't do it at all - I could not drive this car. It wasn't right for me; it wasn't 'me'. I panicked, I stressed, I let all the pent up frustrations ever get to me and God wasn't there to dispell that with his love, or heal any insecurities or damages. So I vented. Big time. I've always been a tell-it-like-it-is-girl but I used to be a lot less loving in that and I suppose for all these things I am really sorry too and need to say it - and accept forgiveness too.

At the time though it just came out. That they hadn't checked with me 'cause they wanted to do this for their friends and my input didn't count, they went for a car I told them I didn't like and didn't even care enough to remember that, they didn't actually care about me at all it was just "doing the right thing" and getting rid of potential guilt, their Christian motives came before their parental ones (always a killer for kids of Christians, ask any shrink!), they chose a car they didn't represent me at all - that wasn't anger so much as me being upset that I had to let go of Eli, retro and cool with a red and grey striped interior, boxy shape and tape player on which I listened to all the old Now's; then replace it with a modern girly-but-not-in-a-good-way boring car that made me a grown up before I was ready. I felt like I was missing the window on being a studenty fun cheap car'd chick who could paint patterns and what not. This was it. A few months of that was all I got. A mum-mobile before I was a mum that would last so long I'd be one by then and it would be too late to be cool.

I don't say this 'cause I want to make my folks feel bad. I acknowledge that it was totally not a valid reaction and most people would be shocked that I said this in response to a car given freely and lovingly out of a genuine care for safety and happiness. There was an oversight of not consulting me but it is just as much sweet that they wanted to surprise me and t'was my own "issues" that made this stuff come up, not their mistakes. Deep rooted ones that are put there by the enemy to upset us and drive wedges between people and hide away so we can't identify them. We were talking today about things from when we're young that we then need to deal with as adults. Happens to us all. Which is the point - one lady shared about her friend who had to forgive her mum for neglecting them as kids because she spent all her energies guarding them from an abusive father. It's hardly wrong and the frustrating thing is that were she to have not done that her daughter would be forgiving her for having not guarded them from an abusive father. It seems like a lose-lose situation.

The truth it, pobody is nerfect (I know, I'm sorry). In any relationship (and parents are just the obvious ones 'cause they are so early on and so key) things go wrong 'cause of the fallen human nature. When we grow up, or just move on, we need to take responsibility for this and learn to deal with it by letting God and his love sort out our problems. There was Adam and he brought in the shite but Jesus came to take it back out so really let's get over the inevitable flaws, forgiving ourselves and each other, so we can receive His perfection.

Our relationship with Him is based upon what we have modeled to us and if we can't get past the errors that will inevitably be there we won't be able to have a whole relationship with Him.

The funny thing too is that Valerie just is me now! Even named after a song that reminds me of me ("I miss your ginger hair and the way you like to dress" - what's that you say...? Narcissistic?). I was rebelling and not feeling ready for maturity but I was and it came and now, well, I am loving her and her electric windows and reliability and security and all that jazz. I like being warm when I drive along and having comfortable suspension! I love that God gave me a car and how, right since I got back, it has come in really handy for so many people. I still wouldn't say no a a VW one day but my identity is in Him and not in my transportation. Though I did just use my car as an analogy for my new life so in a way I suppose my identity is in my transportation... Oh it's late, I'm allowed to make no sense! Going back to the analogy briefly: dangerous wreck that nearly got me seriously injured - loving parent gave me a brand new wonderful safe and fitting vehicle that meets my needs and has far more value... Love it!

I love my car. I love my parents. I love my God. I love leaving old identities behind and coming into new ones. I smirk that my last post was about wanting to not be über-Christian but I still write about this before I share cabbage recipes... Oh well. Some things there just ain't no denying... You've such amazing grace :-)

N.B. The last line quotes an 80's power ballad called 'The Power of Love' but I figure noone will get that unnoitified.

Thank You Parents

My parents are THE BEST EVER. Like, I know we all say it (or sometimes really don't!) but today I think they may have surpassed the limit of giving good gifts to their children into downright inconceivable.

Whilst I have been away they have supervised the repair of all my windows, built me a bed, put up my bathroom cabinet, hung my curtains, bought and fitted a pulleyed clothed dryer in my kitchen, dropped off the furniture that matches my grandparents old dresser (that they also gave me), renewed the tax disc in my car, done my washing... and I've probably missed or forgotten or just not found out something else...

I am not trying to boast. I am trying to say 'Thank You' and 'I Love You'. I also want to make an analogy.

I find it hard to write this post because:
a) it sounds really cheesy and I know that there have probably been LOADS of times where I have not been so vehement of this attitude (justifiably and not!) and generally it seems glib,
and
b) I know how lucky I am and it can't be easy for people that don't have parents, don't have such obviously attentive caring ones, or maybe theirs just can't help them is such ways... I feel bad rubbing that in those people's face and also like I come across a little smug.

But the thing is, this is such a perfect example of what parenthood can be. In this moment of wonderfulness (which can also be seen in the times of discipline, hardship and controversy but is perhaps less obvious) I can see clearly an image of the fatherhood and motherhood of God. I don't want to overlook the glory of this feeling so I think I will write about it anyway.

The role of a parent is so important in the way it is an example of our relationship with God (like how marriage demonstrates another aspect - don'tcha just love how diverse relationships are, how with God we have all the sorts rolled into one and that He gives us examples of the different aspects!). That is a huge challenge to rise to and of course they are going to get it wrong sometimes.

Though for some that may seem like an understatement and with this symbolism comes it's own problems. Firstly I am aware that not everyone feels the same joy in these type of relationships. As with any hardship it is easier said that done to say that God is working through that to teach and to bring good things and that His parentage however hands-off it may seem (not true mind) is sufficient. So often it becomes easy for us to assimilate our negative images of parents with the biblical analogy and think that the worldly elements of error is something we receive from our Heavenly Father instead of those being exactly what He isn't. That sucks and I am sorry.

'Cause when I look at what I have and what maybe others don't I am reminded that we all have the same promises from God. And that what my parents fail at, He doesn't. And that the size of what they give is tiny in comparison with what He gives. So, while it may be a rubbish thing to hear me to say, I am glad that there is in the world examples of parentage being this lovely 'cause it can help just a little bit to understand what it means to be a child of God. You can't deny I am lucky and He does all the above and more: wow am I looking forward to finding out His surprises...!

Another thing I have realised is how easy it is for me to say thank you and I love you in a really heartfelt way to my biological parents:
a) Shameful fact that it is the result of a direct gift is telling of how easily I forget otherwise,
and
b) When it's God and you can't see the joy in His face or hear it in his voice, does it feel as rewarding? Are we as compelled?

I can't be ashamed to have such great folks, to do so would be to shirk the gift that God gave me when he put me in this family. So today I just want to say 'Thank You' and 'I Love You'. To my earthly parents - superstars and a wonderful demonstration of His love; and to Him, for blessing me with them.

How Can You Know Me?

A bit of a pretentious analogy for the way in which I am so very very deep...!

OK, so, the idea is that my blog represents me, right, and the message I "put out there"? And that it is a big jumbled up mess of thoughts. Some of it is personal, some (well a lot) silly, but not even together do all the posts give a full picture. I can't always write and when I do it is honed to give you the impression I want and the insights that I am in the mood to share.

Really, if you could login to my dashboard, you'd find TONS of half-drafted posts. Some too personal. Some a poor representation of who I want you to see. Lots and lots and lots I just haven't had the chance to finish and share. Then there are the ones I haven't quite worked through yet and it might take a conversation or two with others to get things to a point of greater clarity.

Which is how I feel about relationships with people. That what we give out is the tip of the iceberg and that it takes a hell of a lot of time and probing to get to the things that there just isn't a chance for day-to-day. Even with those people that in theory you would let in, it takes a major effort in this day and age (or perhaps in every day and age, how can we tell?).

Which isn't even taking into account the fact that for some things you will need my private password to get to read...

People, with all their complicated messages and ideas. Some private personal soul wrenching details; others just a bit sideways that take unraveling. The vast majority un-chartered for no reason other than lack of opportunity. Logistically we can't get close to too many but I think if we take the time it is worth it for a few.

Maybe the only person you will ever get to know is yourself. That alone would take a lifetime+ Of course it may be rather nice to share it with another and have them help you on the journey - work out those posts/areas in which you have come to a brick wall and need a conversation to move forward and grow.

LOL, did Miss Independent get all soppy about boys for a minute? Not likely! Just, you know, I concede that it can actually be a good thing. Say, for example, when you want to give strangers a bed for the night and don't like the idea of being alone in the house with them... ENTER The Husband! :-P Until then, I've got my friends to keep me talking and walking. Plus, there aren't enough Christian men for everybody and it would feel selfish to nab one for meself!

Ha ha ha. I'm going to bed. This is just the tip of the iceberb...

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.

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

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.]

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.

My Second Love

I just read a post from Darryl's blog - about a Henri Nouwen video we watched t'other week at YAGs. Don't worry, I seldom actually visit TYC. I read it on Facebook so he doesn't get my hits...

Anyways. It was a really inspiring video and reading that post reminded me of what I had gotten from it, not to mention the pretty cool realisation I made after, so I though I would share. Some of you may know all too well what I am talking about and for others it will be nice and vague - the vagueness is sufficient for the example and, if you do understand all too well, I don't suppose it matters.

When I went to Paris in October and watched the Rugby World Cup final I had a pretty fun time. There's a few legendary stories - see here for example - but the real clincher for me now, I must admit, is the way in which God spoke to me. [This comment reminds me of the thing Sara said t'other day about what my parties are likely to turn into. A recent incident that only confirms the journey of my reputation down the plughole was when my visiting friends wanted to watch one of the infinite sky channels on my ginormous TV that I seldom-to-never watch. They switched it on and it was showing The God Channel... saaaaaaaad.]

Getting off the tangent. God talked to me there about love and how we need to love each other and ourselves and that all love comes from Him and it is His love that we are ultimately seeking. There is more to this I know, about loving God back for example (see Darryl's post - I am trying to move away from the competitiveness a little now it's an official grace killer. If it's on the list I MUST obey...) but at the time I was in a place (spiritually that is) where I didn't know what I believed and could not really understand the idea of loving God, let alone all that Christian jazz. So He gave me some survival tips and a real experience of His love for me. All this hapened in Paris, the City of Love, speaking the Language of Love and in the Sacré Coeur (sacred heart). The symbolism was not lost on me and it felt like I was having a romantic weekend away with God.

Anyway. The thing from Henri? Well if you are a regular reader (one of 4) you may have noticed that one of the things I have been learning about is God being my first priority, not letting man distract from Him and making sure that I put my trust and hope and love into Him. It's taken me a while since Paris, I still have a long way to go and He has made it pretty clear that until I can be wholly into that there is not going to be space for anyone else on my life. We're talking about boyfriends in case you hadn't picked up on that. When I was traveling in June I did a lot of learning about this (there was a pretty cool analogy, that I wrote about here, from Budapest). Henri phrased it in a fabulous way: "God is your First Love and man (relationships of all kinds) is your second. If you look in your second love for what you can only find in your First then you will crash." (That's not a direct quote but its close.)

I already knew this but it was good to be reminded and hear someone else put it so well. Then, when we were in the tea shop after YAGs (it gets worse and worse, we used to go to the pub), talking ont I realised sommat cool as an extra.

Here goes with the necessary personal detail. When I was in Budapest I was inadvertently a bit preoccupied with a certain "second love". God was pretty clear to me on what He thought (I realised a little too late) but these things can take over and, well, the days that followed were pretty chocka of visuals and lessons which I made some mention of at the time but did not give all the context. Now you have it you can reread through new eyes (which you will of course now do...).

God really speaks to me when I travel. Symbolism is cool and I love how using different cities He says different things. I can't wait to work out the significance of Bristol...

Geneva's easy: the motto is "post tenebras lux" - after the darkness, the light; Paris: city of love; Budapest? Well, people call it the Paris of Eastern Europe and at the time I could not help but think 'oooh, this is the encouraging love symbol for the certain preoccupation'. Eh Eh. (supposed to be a sound effect from a quiz show, did it work?) That Tuesday 2 weeks back I suddenly realised....

...Budapest does represent the preoccupation (I think from now on whenever I fancy someone I will refer to them as my preoccupation!), just not how I was looking at it. The Second City of Love, or perhaps rather City of Second Love by it's very name is akin to what M Nouwen described. It also has a real history of violence and corruption - the damaging potential of human love. It is love but it is the kind Henri warns of: not perfect, certainly not enough and with the propensity to go horribly wrong if that is where you are storing your treasure.

Now for the thing that was OVERWHELMING cool, as I was sitting in Kafé Deko talking myself hoarse: check out what I bought in the second hand shop in Budapest...

(It's mirror image but I can't flip it)

Even looking for the wrong type of love, in the city of the wrong type of love, I found (as God so graciously revealed Himself) perfect Parisian Love to take away with me - in the shape of a very cool retro compact mirror. It may have taken a while to realise but I was carrying it around all along.

Ooh ooh ooh! Last thought. If the sunglasses I lost (see this to understand) are the second love, they give a tinted view of the world. The mirror, the First Love, reflects a perfect image of who I am. There has to be something deep in that. I can't believe I'm now glad I lost them! Lol... too true...

Sorry it's such a long message. I just though that those that appreciate this kind of thing probably like the details too. That and I can't help myself!

Watcha Gonna Do With All That Junk?

I wonder if the reason I find it so hard to get rid of junk is 'cause if I did I may then realise it was time to clear out things that actually have some value. Like, holding onto the clothes labels that I may never have to deal with sorting out my wardrobe.

Is it like that inside? I try and get rid of my junk but I think that perhaps all I have done is the food waste and plastic wrappers - nothing I would feel pushed to keep anyway. What if really I am harbouring vast amounts of space wasters that I am not wanting to let go of in case I then have to move on to things I actually care about.

Sometimes I wish Jesus had sinned, just so I would feel less bad about myself giving in to temptation when He did not. But then, that would kinda defy the point right? Praise the Lord for being holier than thou.

In positive light, I got rid of half a carton of labels t'other day, and gave away a pair of trousers. I am serious about wanting to lose the crap inside too. Just got to get it together. Preferably before I pack my trunk.

I probably do give myself a bit of a hard time mind. There are some pretty huge things that have changed in recent times and I must stop being so down on myself as a default mode. (Especially with grace flying about in abundance.) Thus enters: Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

A note on CTB. It is a very classic thing to do, think yourself happy. I say classic in the sense of modern (prize for anyone that knows how my mind works on that one!) and totally widely accepted and, I've always thought, valid enough probably. Except, I never really got round to doing it successfully - for one thing where's the motivation when you don't really care about anything enough? But now I kinda know* it is true. Logically convincing oneself into a better state of mind. Over and over. Constant repetition. Over and over. In fact, one could say, persevering. Duh, check out the bible for that one. I think I may have said this before, it is kinda a relevant concept for me: keeping going with the whole getting there eventually thing. In increasing measure. Little by little as it were. Take it in conjunction with this to really see the promised benefits. And don't forget that God does all the helping... I am not sure that the ellipses do this reference justice given that, as far as I am concerned, it is the one thing that takes the therapists' theory into the realm of possibility, given how likely we are to continuously fall into familiar thought habits.

Wow, it's a veritable bible study today! I am getting in practise for the next YAGs (did I ever explain what that is?) as I am leading it on the topic of praise and worship and may even be playing the guitar (God help them all!).

For how I am feeling in myself, check out Darryl's latest blog. He really hit that nail square.

Laters,
K



*within the realms of what I take as given in my faith.

A collection of vaguely comedic things (that will only work if you know the people in question) and a fair amount of tangentialism

We have a friend who is "half Spanish, half American". So, while Beautiful Brian is a nice name it does not reflect his heritage nearly as well a Randy José. Rechristenment done.

The other day one of my competitors was talking about his leather thong. I asked him if it had studs in it. He replied "You could say that" with the classic eyebrow-raise/head nod. 'F you know what I mean... Shocking!

Randy José called me a fucker on the 24th June. My mission in Geneva is complete. People still don't believe me but it is true. I seem to have this affect on people, SO many of them are swearing more with my influence. Hurrah! I mean this too, I am an advocator of a good cuss when it is necessary and think too many people shy away from it. Language is a tool people.

My mum was just as excited as me when I told her about the hair and said that for her it really was a proper sign (maybe this is where I get the silly symbolism streak from) of things being different. I said that I assumed other things, i.e. Baptism, were more so and she said "well yes, but now it's real!" WTF! (Language is a tool people).

I wrote 6 songs this week. I tend to do that more when I am feeling mellow rather than upbeat so I think if I were to have an album it would be called "Music To Almost Slit Your Wrists To But Then Find That There Is A Small Amount of Hope". We went to see Paul Simon at Montreux a few weeks ago and the 'warm up' (if you can call it that in Switzerland where the crowd never gets more than tepid) was a lady singer/songwriter brandishing a guitar, which is always an inspiration. I know it sounds silly but sometimes when I don't get round to writing music I worry that someone else will write the songs that I'm supposed to! Like when you don't fulfill your call so God gives the job to someone else. I really am that paranoid. The thing is, there are only so many chord combos... and words... OK, I am doing the maths and statistically speaking that is unlikely.

Speaking of which, what about going back to maths... ? Well I am excited, unprepared, a little too not knowledgeable and have lots of things to do when I do return which won't facilitate becoming sufficiently so. But it will be great and though I talk a lot about the sadness of leaving here I have to acknowledge the excitement of going home. I have a kitchen to decorate, friends to reunite with, cars to drive, crazy dogs to play with, a family to drive insane, churches to shop for, futures to plan... There is a lot of cool stuff ahead and I have never been as secure in my life plans and knowing where they will take me. Even if I don't actually know anything much at all - the ideas change on a very daily basis but always, I find, building on each other... but to who knows where?!

On the whole call thing, it actually makes me really worried that every time I mess up I am missing out. I think that I put quite a lot of pressure on myself like that and then retaliate by being even less inline with God. Smart hey? Facilitating/stemming from this I have had a bit of a tough week; life and God have been there but I have on several occasions been disconnected. Yet in all that I now feel like, overall, He was in control. I think. There has been a risk of me getting too legalistic with 'giving my day to God' and making sure that He would be able to do what He wanted as long as I said and did exactly the right things at every moment and being incredibly guilty when I didn't. [Talk about not following my own advice - maybe I am who this post was for.] We can't always be fully immersed in what feels like quality time (I will no doubt realise this more when I get back to a proper life where I cannot pick and choose my level of busyness) and I think this is what I am learning and that I need to be able to be content in God in that. Keeping at it even when I am not in the honeymoon period.

And the anology for this lesson? I went swimming with Zoe on Friday and when I came out (after some pretty hardcore sunbathing as well) I found my hair was not as red. I nearly cried, mostly 'cause of what that said about me as a person and that I had not even show Robyn, but I was over reacting *slightly* as overall the impression is still very SB. It just reminded me that, while the colour was a moment of encouragement, I do need to protect it and I will still have to go through some major upkeep on a regular basis. A question of perseverance to see the long term goals. After all, I got the faith; I'm trying to be good and seeking to gain knowledge; in some, though granted not all at all, areas I am showing self-control and so perseverance is the next logical step (well, logic if you are going by the process as outlined here). Soo, this post would be not so much funny as tangential.

But I have found something that I can beat Darryl on. MY blog is more holy than his: I have more links to the bible... So there.

The Big Fat Analogy

This post has been a long time coming. I made this analogy to myself back in May and since then I have been looking for the opportune moment to share. Now is that moment.

I am really quite serious when I say that for me my hair represents my own personal growth. I like to think this is a sign of my creativity rather than an appearance obsession. The way I see it is this: I am currently growing my hair long whilst at the same time trying to return to my natural strawberry blonde (it is a real colour; subset of ginge I don’t deny it but valid nonetheless). The journey that will ultimately bring me to that point represents the time and efforts I spend learning and changing and becoming more “As God intended me to be”. Granted, as with even the best analogies, it will break down; namely when I reach the desired goal and I find I myself will not yet be perfect. Also, if I ever want to get a perm or high lights please, don’t think I am changing myself or letting the sinful nature back in!

The thing is, it is hard to go from platinum to a red-based hue. I ravaged my fibres so much that they can barely hold pigment at all and, as the hair dresser said, peu par peu I will have to go back and get more colour added; then wait a month or so as it readjusts; then try again and so on and so forth. I would gradually get a little darker, but she was pretty doubtful that I would reach a good semblance of ‘me’ again. The real route to my goal is to wait and let my roots grow through so I can shed completely the tattered ends of the past. That is not to say that I cannot gradually recondition and indeed recolour the strands. Just that it would take time and patience and PERSEVERANCE and that ultimately the true true end result is a long long way off.

And that my friend is where I am at too. This is my Jesus summer school and the strive for a richer colour is there at many levels.

Now we are going to see how this correlates from the beginning of my time here. Believe me, it can be done... Last September I arrived and I had a hair goal. To grow it long and keep redoing the roots so I would end up with long straight platinum locks. Not unlike a porn star(!). Well, that plan went slowly down the pan as I had a communication issue with one hairdresser (sadly I must say that was in London so the language was not an excuse) and ended up with VERY short blonde hair. It was ok, I did the Debbie Harry thing for a while, but the point is I was on my way off the original objective. This happened in February, around the time I was really challenged about moving on from the past and wholeheartedly embracing the new things I was discovering. The next stages really just snuck in and before I knew it was trying to get ‘low lights’! Where that change of direction come from I do not know (possibly something to do with a prayer or two from me and one or two others!) but it happened and the desire did not cease. First time Zoe donned the plastic gloves of a home dye kit but that did not really take hold and so on my birthday I went and got it done professionally.

I had a lovely birthday btw (that is another story in the draft box) but I was finding with my hair that, while I liked the new colour, there was not enough of it. Hair or colour. That was in April as I was enjoying my deepening friendships with wholesome people (that truly is what I called ‘The Christians’ when I met them and my main reason for doing so in the first place) and also questioning everything a lot. By that point I pretty much believed it all I just had not reconciled it with a commitment; and that was where things were scary (see my Baptism post for more info).

And so the metaphor goes on. It was just before the B that I first went to the hairdressers. The grey incident nonetheless. For me, that was the decision to live 'this life'. To put the colour back as it were. And it did start. OK, I was grey but I had begun the process. I made the choice and that alone makes all the difference. Not what I (or God) had in mind long term but the ground work was done and there was something to build upon. And build He has (see everything pretty much that has happened since!)...

And since then I have been back twice for more work. Once just before my travels and if you were to look at the Dublin photos you may have noticed (those of you that knew what colour my hair was before) that I was looking kinda ginge. Well, I was feeling it too. A combo of the professional visit and the new water and sunlight and all that jazz; Robyn noticed and she liked it, I think the same could be said for my growth inside as well. The trip was a defo era of change for me, as I may have mentioned once or twice. I also really did start to notice the hair then, I am not making this up!

What about the second time I went back to the hairdressers? I hear you ask. Well, that was today. And I really am so excited to post this now because as I was talking in the morning with a dear friend and really reconciling some of the things from these past few weeks - which have been seriously challenging at times but ALWAYS astoundingly God controlled - I was reminded that life really has changed amazingly and I have too. And then I went to the hairdressers (quite a 'chance' opportunity)… and I came out a Ginger! Talk about confirmation!!

I am not saying that I am 'there'. The colour is a bit darker than natural (implying I may need to calm down a little, or am I pushing this one too far?) and there is a vague layer at the back in a chocolate brown (totally not chavvy I swear) and a pale streak on the top that I feel has been left to remind me of the things I am yet to give up (note how much less of them there are, but they are still foe show). Plus, it is not natural it is a dye job and there are still many many years till the full length of my locks will be totally back to normal.

For now though, I a pretty content with where it leaves me. Basically, waiting 5-10 years for a total shoulder length regrowth (and by then I trust I will have a better idea of where I am headed and we can let the analogy rest in peace) is the long term extension of the analogy but I feel pretty secure. I don't doubt a top up will be needed at some point, but isn't it always?

As I write this sunbathing, between dips in my rooftop pool (it is a hard life), I can also add that it is long enough to tie up out of the water. Only just mind and that is the next step. More growth of the same thing and seeing it come through even realer with each passing cm. That is a pretty neat place to be in as I leave a month today and can look ahead feeling reassured that I am doing OK.

‘Cause I really do think that God is talking to me through a trip to the coiffeurs and that really this is all testimony to His creativity. Especially when I had been worrying about how right I was getting things, then He affirms me with a hair cut! If you had been there (bear in mind too that it is a training school) maybe you’d get the little miracle that just happened. They too were surprised it worked... but then, I am sure there will be a few more surprised faces back home too…

The faith paid off though and the rewards are being seriously reaped. You can’t make this shit up!

Relational Matters

I have always found trousers a bit of a tricky thing to buy. Different people have different tailoring needs but for me it is pantalons that are cut in an unhelpful manner. That's ok though, after quite a lot of shopping experience I have worked out exactly what does and does not suit or flatter. I now have quite a collection of trousers in fact, and wear them a whole lot. I can see on the hanger what will or won't fit right and exactly what size I need. As I have mentioned it before, shopping is one of my spiritual gifts.

And I think obscure analogy making is another. I was in a cute (yet very touristy) market in Montreux yesterday and I found one of those fake-hippy stalls. The kind where everything is really cool but thoroughly overpriced and overdesigned. That is in part the look I go for these days and so I was of course excited to see the cool baggy trousers (Sinbad style) in a whole range of takes, textures, and colours. This I felt was one of my 'safebet' styles and so with glee I take 4 pairs into the makeshift cubicle. And not one pair fit. Rejected by an item of clothing.

Now, I find that when one goes clothes shopping and for some reason things just aren't going right, it is best to stop before it gets too much. I mean, it may be 'cause what is in season really doesn't suit you; or you're having a bad face/hair/fat day and can't look in the mirror! Or perhaps just low sugar levels and a non-relaxed attitude, which are not at all conducive to this kind of shopping. There ought to be official research done but I would postulate that when a woman has low success in the changing room department, she needs to stop after circa 5 consecutive let downs and quit while she is still able to walk down the road looking straight ahead. Else things just get messy. I have perfected this well and these days I have enough confidence to tell myself that those trousers were not made for women of my stature and that it was OK 'cause the ones I was wearing were better anyway. I know how to shop in an uplifting manner.

But do I know how to deal with people (as opposed to 'pant') rejection? I have a feeling I've applied the same rule. I give it a go a bit, take a few blows and then leave the arena convinced that I am OK without.

Being a Christian has facilitated this a lot too. Particularly as I have recently been learning the lesson that God is enough to satisfy all my needs and the only one that can and should bolster me. How easy is it to turn around and say that, in conclusion, man does not satisfy anything and definitely both can't and shouldn't. So in true opposites fashion I have now, today, been challenged to wonder if perhaps I do not rates relationships with people enough. Like when I learnt to love myself so much I had to then address the issue of vanity!

Now, I am not talking about boy-girl relationships in particular but the next bit of this blog pertains to a conversation I had on that topic. I was talking today with someone who had quite a different opinion to me on Christian dating. He did challenge me quite a lot (about how not long term relationships have value for both learning and support) but I think I am still in the same place as before the conversation (that God is kinda the central theme at the moment and that, for me, any relationship that may or may not develop at some point in the future would have to have longevity potential else it is just a distraction and waste of emotional and other resources). I explained my current thinking to this chap as such: the merits of a relationship with a particular individual, in the completely healthy non-dependent, not distracting sense, are admittedly envious (I have noticed this also with having Robyn in my life - in some ways she is like an actual husband!); there is someone there to talk to about the shit stuff, share the amazing stuff, have follow your life story and really care, give you feedback when you need it and just listen when you are ranting. There's also praying together, reading the Bible together and generally build towards a future, together; and more besides I don't doubt. It is pretty neat. But my point was, and as I was about to say to this boy, I've realised I have God to do all that with.

Expect, of course, he wanted to make a witty comment and thus when I said "I have ...", he inserted "a blog".

Ha ha ha. The funny thing is that it's become a bit of a longstanding joke how I 'advertise' my blog in general conversation to everyone I meet. It stems from the blog-off and I find it amusing (though I am sure no-one else does) enough that it is pretty much inexhaustible. This day, however, I had not mentioned once to him that I have a blog.

So that comment actually hit me pretty hard, even though he was just joking 'cause of what I said about sharing and off-loading. It made me wonder if perhaps I have an unhealthy relationship with my blog as a bit of a replacement for a significant other and perhaps with all the dangers of gratification seeking. [Wow, how crazy does that sound as I do a read through!]

But you know, I don't think so. Relationship, yes, but unhealthy? Maybe this sounds like justification but, well, I think I may have given relationships (in both the generic and specific sense) a taboo that is in fact the uncool thing. God did not create us to be isolated from each other, even those called to singleness are meant to have society and friends and confidants and mentors and whatnot; I mean, that is what we call the church, right? God definitely digs that: Hebrews 10:25. Plus, as I said a couple of posts ago, I want to share what God is doing in my life and not be tempted to keep it back. Relating to people is a key part of what we as human beings are supposed to do, both for our own wellbeing and for His glory.

Turning to man instead of God is not cool, but since we are made in His image I think that seeing God in fellow man is pretty exciting too. The thing to remember is that, when secure in His love for us, the failings of others do not matter. Like my ace pair of trousers that I went back to when all the others didn't fit right.

Keeping relationships healthy is just as much about avoiding independence as it is dependence. Isn't it funny how it took a realisation about my positive relationship with a lil' bit of cyberspace for me to acknowledge that relating to people can be a good thing!