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

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.

My Bird Has Flown The Nest

OK. What's sadder than a cheesy gimmick of a title? A cheesy gimmick of a title that is a reuse of my current Facebook status!

Robyn went back to Canada today. I was going to put back home but I defiantly did not because, well, because I like to think of her first loyalties being in Geneva with me. Playing as my husband instead of being an actual wife to her own. Boy will I miss her. That is one iron sharpening iron friendship and I have never felt more challenged and loved at the same time. Thank you :-D

The whole home thing though. Selfish gene aside I do think it is hard to look to another place and call it home after such a time away. Particularly when what has happened in the interim changes you and your situation completely. England was home once and I know it will be again but right now I am leaving home, ergo I cannot not be going back. Can I? Perhaps Robyn feels like this, I don't know. I sure do. It is just the fact of transition - things change.

But they also continue to change too and from this point onwards will be a new chapter for us both.

Geneva really has been a nest for me. It is a useful analogy and I have observed many lives being changed whilst here. I've watched people enter, be transformed and then get sent out in the world. It is a place for nourishment and growth and also for some a place of stability, as they become a nurturer here - but you only need so many of those and for every parent in a bird family you have a whole host of little chicks that eventually fly away. And that is what Robyn did this morning. And that is what I will do tomorrow night (I write as though it is Saturday given that it is presleep).

But if I were to quote my favourite (OK, I only know one) Christian reggae artist - "fly away home to glory" - maybe I need to rethink this whole 'home' thing. I suppose really, though I leave a home here - an encouraging, supportive and caring life and family that has weaned me onto solid food and given me a whole bunch of love - I am flying away home. Because if home is in glory and the kingdom is in our hearts it doesn't really matter where you settle down.

So really, Robyn did go home today; and I go home tomorrow; and we are both leaving home behind... because like a tortoise we carry home around with us and wherever I stop and draw in my legs is where I will find shelter - because glory is deep down in my heart.

Talking about deep deep, a down down... which is exactly the opposite of the tortoise analogy... but it is late, I have silly amounts of packing and finishing up still to do (if you are reading this before Sunday 7pm UK time, pray now; you don't even have to believe) and don't have the usual fall back plan that my parents will fit it into their car somehow. That said, I am leaving a bunch with Beautiful Brian and coming back to get it stupidly soon.

Am I being melodramatic given how easy Jet travel is these days? But where would the fun be otherwise?!

Night (if I ever get to bed) x

The End Is Nigh

Today is Robyn's last night. So I will not write for long, I want to spend time with her...

I have not cried yet, I am just so happy I can't really visualise it. It helps that I don't have a very good impression of what is real - if I can't see it it isn't there.

Therefore, despite the fact that we had yet another leaving 'do'. Yet again at Anna's (if you do live opposite the Jet d'Eau you will have to host) and yet another lovely parting gift, I still can't look beyond what I have to do tomorrow. Quite nice really, though not at all efficient for packing stuffs.

I am off to see my husbie. We can brush our teeth and gossip. Did I ever tell you about pra-hair time? Well, you work it out. I will write a longer one tomorrow when I am all alone...

P.S. I have NO IDEA if all my stuff with fit into the 40kg allowance I have!

A Mini Self-Assessment

Technically this counts as Thursdays post cause I haven't gone to bed yet. Plus it is 5 to midnight UK time and I am getting myself readjusted.

So, what's been going down. A good bit of miraculous peace which is nice, yesterday I got all kinds of things done in a really chilled manner including making 'business cards' and fitting in my last Starbucks (made an exception for old times sake) with good friends using vouchers that another good friend gave me for my birthday and I only just found! Anna threw Robyn and I a going away 'share a song' party in the eve, which I was of course fashionably late for. It was lovely and I found myself just enjoying every minute and not thinking about the end. Just having a great last week which is exactly what I was worried would not happen so am very grateful. AND Sheila gave us both fabulous Ghanaian dresses (which Robyn is cheekily calling Moomoos!) so that was lovely :-D.

Today on the other hand I have had my bitchy mean judgmental ungraceful tendencies come out in full force. Not the only thing I have been learning about this week but a key lesson which I failed immeasurable times in all situations and, well, sorry. To everyone and particularly God. Why is it that we can know and vow how to be but it is so easy to slip? I rather felt t'other day some stuff about needing to have a servant heart (more ont another time, maybe) and I think perhaps the next stage of this journey I am on will be in learning humility and love, and in finding that through practical offerings.

'Cause the thing is, this year I learnt to love myself and appreciate who God has made me and be uplifted and encouraged in my giftings and character. Thank you for that, everyone who has added to the stockpile, it really was very gratefully received. Now it is time for me to see that, though I am fabulous and can do lots of things, the first call is to be last. I need to be humble before I can be great for God. If in discernment I judge it is better not to be discernful. If in leading I take control it is better to follow. If in any earthly gifting I get vain it is better do unglamorous mediocre things in secret - Yuck.

I am having to transition from someone who is just discovering faith and getting away with certain things to learning what really isn't appropriate. From misfiring sometimes to taking responsibility for thinking and caring more about those around me. From uncontained naïve excitement to directed encouragement. From passion for change to compassion for the chained. I am growing, I think, but it is not that easy or fun and boy do I suck at it.

Still, there are many rewards waiting on the other side. I can't help thinking of Abraham and Isaac when I think I am giving something up for God. It is hard to say "I will do this for you because I love you and you have called me to" when there is a constant niggle adding "and if you do then He will bless right back atcha". This whole religion thing really isn't altruistic is it? Giving stuff up is SO a personal gain its untrue. It annoys me but then, you can't really get away from your own thought failings. It is so true that God knows us better than we do 'cause even when I want to be genuine I can find myself kidding myself. I think.

I wish I was still a baby. Approaching the 3 month rebirthday on Monday and I have to say, it has been exponential. Don't get me wrong, still very much a newbie, just with less excuses than before. Hmmmm... all good shit though :-)


P.S. I am aware that I wrote a post about wanting to be humble. Seems perhaps the wrong place to start...? But as Sara told me, Moses was the humblest man on the face of the earth - check out this reference for evidence (if you go in for the bible that it) - yet he was the very dude that wrote the Book of Numbers!

P.P.S. While writing about humility may not be a huge error, potentially comparing myself to Moses may well be! I hope this doesn't come across like it reads...!

Blog-down

It is the final week and though I am busy and have many other things in the agenda, I want to do a bit of a blog based count down. Making little observations everyday kinda thing. It is no doubt just classic procrastination to avoid packing and cleaning. Problem is, my blogbook (the place where I write down all the nonsensical trite that happens to me when I am not near a computer) is overflowing from just a few hours of life; and there is some AMAZING praise points which really should be included; and I already had an idea of what I wanted to write for this entry from days ago but it looks like I may not get the chance. I have, afterall, already filled a paragraph with the introduction.

Was my last day at JdeM. That is the homeless kitchen for those that don't know. I was going to summarise what I've learnt there, catch up on what actually happened with the music idea and stuffs like that. Now you will have to wait, again, 'cause even today more über-cool wicked bad shit went down.

I was reading in Joshua the other day (just the first coupla chapters and no that does not mean I have finished Genesis, I am just skipping ahead - I love that about the Bible!) about how God was going to give him every place that he set his foot. Pretty acebloodytastic stuff in beaucoup trop ways and I would encourage you to dwell ont 'cause I probably won't be spending time exegesing it. Anyways this portion, combined with a friend that has been encouraging me to pray for what lies ahead and claiming it for my own before I get there, plus the fact that at the end of the chapter 2 it talks about the people melting in fear because God will conquer, got me really excited about the idea of seeing Him moving in places where He is not yet and the power of praying for it and seeing it happen. So, during a lull at the kitchen (mid-morning we tend to have a bit of a wait period and I am disadvantaged in the standing around smoking and gossiping stakes on several fronts) I decided to walk all around and pray for the place and the people there and those coming in and for the future that there would be God in da house and a way made for it and all that jazz. Yes it came across as a shuffling mutter but they see that quite a lot there. I was really excited by the idea, particularly in light of some of the progress that I had already seen in the attitudes of the people that worked there (which I am yet to mention but it did happen and was cool). Wanted to see the people's issues left at the door and not picked up again. I was quite up for believing that it would be an effective thing to make a difference - I think that I am such a prime example of prayer working that my propensity to doubt is not as high as my propensity to other things... as Robyn and I were taking about over dinner though, this just leaves more room for other propensities.

Anyways, did I see results? Did I ever! Not exactly what I was expecting mind. It was like the Tracy Chapman song - poor people were rising up and taking what was theirs. There was a new woman working there who had not had the weeks of prayer that had gone down, way back when the last grumpy cow was in charge (no offense intended, just the best description going) and she was overwhelmingly opposed to anyone being, well, happy. The thing in Geneva is that the poor aren't nearly as poor as in other places and half of what we give them is not food so much as a brief place to be and find some love. They got none of that from her and, while they can lack friendliness at times, never have I seen anyone refusing seconds to hungry street walkers when there is plenty there and it is normal policy. It was like she was fighting against joy. Pretty damn stressful actually and it occurred to me that, while I was subject to her direction, God clearly says only follow the law of the land when it does not go against His - and His says clearly in Isaiah 58 (as well as many other places I am sure) about feeding the hungry. Was I Supposed to rebel? I was, after all, holding the spoon... and it was my last day. With a lot of pressure from those talkin' bout a revolution and bit of feeble eventual arguing from me (I like to claim language barrier as an excuse but it doesn't really graduate to reason), she finally gave in a bit for a time, though stayed firmly in the misery camp (the rubbish alternative to the glory camp). Really felt like a "things have been stirred up" situation. If that makes sense. Was cool to watch in a horrifying manner mind, and would defo have made a good music vid for Trace.

Talking about being able (or not) to do pretty awesome/intense stuff in the name of following God's commands: a not very close friend of mine (some guy I met through the reggae crew) that I have in the past had some pretty interesting chats with (where I try not to be judgmental over him putting veganism above sexual purity) totally blew me away today. I have been getting really excited with his coming to church and really getting into God stuff and hearing about breakthroughs in his life. It is really cool actually but I have been awakened to the patronisation of my attitude - it didn't take long to go from new and open to set in ways and condescending did it? Amidst all this "I want to see you coming into God's way like I have" he tells me - when I finally noticed the 5 inch gash down the side of his face and asked about it - that it happened when he brought back a guy from the park to sleep at his place 'cause he had nowhere else to go. The dude attacked him with a knife from his own kitchen! And now he is all Jamaican and relaxed about it and joking about how the next person he meets in the park will just have to stay there! I would be a bit more pissed and a lot more martyr than that.

People really surprise you don't they?

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!

A Splash of Colour

Whoopee! I found out (a few weeks ago now) that I had doubled most of my photo albums and tripled my music collection on my laptop, which means that I no longer have to worry at all about how much storage I have on here. There is plenty to last me until the end of August and as such I was able to upload my photos from The Trip!!

So, in particular favour to my parents and in particular tribute to The Yellow Couch, I am (finally) going to makes links to albums that can be found elsewhere on the web. I am not prepared to pay for a host site so you will get the quality Facebook gives and be glad for it! See me for higher quality copies (if I know you, else that would just be weird!).

This is particularly pertinent now the blog-off has been officially recognised by DD. I am realising that without photos it is basically a nobrainer, so here you go. I would add that if we let experience be the judge then the whole 'self-improvement' thang would be futile. I vote we measure on enthusiasm!

First things first, Dublin. A selection follows with more to be found here and even more to be added one day, maybe.

The first drink. My first Guinness. We later went to the factory where I bought some underwear to mark the occasion.














Is this not fabulous? They weren't walking along in some Reservoir Dogs manner it was by chance, they weren't even together. If only I had the feet... Still, power to the ginge!



They look cool even when they fight.








I kid you not, they are still alive...! Touring even!!



A cool skip. I like skips, you never know what you might find in them.


















The most Irish man in the world.














'The' man himself. How am I suppose to compete with someone that cool...? That is genuine Gutchi I'll have you know.

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!

Odd Job Lady

Sometimes I feel a bit like God's odd job girl.

This is a familiar role 'cause I used to work as the shop girl in a florists when I was 14. I'm throwing that in because it is, in my humble opinion, one of the cooler first jobs for someone to have. It involved turning up on the day and being available for any task they so desired, from setting up the front, washing the floor, or putting out new flowers to making bouquets and funeral sheafs. In no particular order and I am not trying to make any direct analogy (getting lazy it seems).

So, what is the similarities between that and my relationship with God? Well, these days I kinda just get out of bed and say 'what today?' and then He gives me an odd job. I may have vague plans in the morning, which somehow or other tend to fit in the bigger picture; often though it is a blank canvas which by the end is totally full of lovely stuff.

I have questioned my motivation for thinking that every moment of the day is part of some orchestrated plan of the Almighty. I mean, for someone that is terrible at making decisions (well at times, mostly when it comes to what to order for lunch or where to go after church) it could seem a bit like a cop out. But things just seem to happen so much that I can't really deny it...

So. Two examples:

1) I ought to have written about last Monday at the time but I was too tired to make it coherent. I got off the tram (16) quite late at night to change at Bel-Air (setting the scene for those in the know) and get a bus home. Some guy that got off [edit - *the tram*] with me starting talking to me (you know, the biggest problem with 'bus stop men' is that they try and pick you up at the bus stop, thus rendering them totally unviable; someone should probably tell them...) but 'luckily' Sara came along and helped take away the tension. (She does this in part by giving the evangelist from the Amercian library church some of her own literature which slightly threw him off and was hilarious!). This guy was stubborn though (not the evangelist, the creep) and he decided to stay on the bus with us way past the station (where he was supposedly heading. Anyone else notice that the 16 would have taken him straight there? Defo dodge...) and I was panicking slightly 'cause she was about to get off and I was not. So I invited myself in for a cuppa. Flirt divert accomplished. We get to hers where I realise I have lost my phone. On calling it some nice French dude answers who had found it on the tram (I recall that I had indeed left it on the side for no particular reason!). I was SO 'fortuitous' I had met Sara (without who communication would have been impossible); and to be chased off the bus so I was actually able to get my phone back; and that this dude was a legend; and that he lived close by her place so we could go retrieve it...

So there we headed there (Sara, thank you for not being distressed by the lateness of this adventure and for not dying of smoke allergies in the flat!) and proceeded to pay the most random visit to people we would never ever have met otherwise. It was a bit like a crack den (in the nicest possible way) and they were really sweet and funny and we exchanged numbers and are going to try and meet up at the lake parade next week!

All this meant I had to walk home. It was about 1am, I was knackered and at the end of my joy reserves. Then I found a leopard print suitcase in the street en route!!! Talk about a blessing... and a perfect end to a crazy night. Now, just before I came to GVA I ordered a full set of leopard print luggage but when it arrived late it was tacky and fragile and incomplete. All that and far to expensive with it. Suddenly, just when I was not expecting it I am given a quality one in perfect timing which totally meets my packing needs. And free! I love the analogy between the failed attempt before and the gift now. My new-life-in-Jesus wheeliecase!

2) Then there was today. Having prayed with Robyn last night for direction on where to put our energies this summer I started today with a bit of a plan. First off was breakfast with a friend from church (exciting enough in it's own right about music with the homeless and also a praise party project at church but too much for now) after which I was going to help with engaGE at the JdeM kitchen. They were not open (I knew that but would anyone listen!) so I headed home. Was most of the way there when I realised I had lost my brown velour Dolce and Gabbana waistcoat. Retraced all the way to the lake but no luck, bummer.

But what a worthwhile sacrifice (it was pretty ugly anyway) as it triggered a change of direction and a real answer to prayer. I remembered in town that I had some shopping to do anyway and then when I was leaving Manor (having decided to not shop for clothes I did not need and could not bring home) I bumped into Sara... who was heading to another engaGE project (which was running) at Voix Libres. They had lots of stock to organise and whatnot and were a *bit* low on people. Well, the afternoon was spent doing fabulous re-labelling of Quinoa, finding a worthwhile project that really needs people to help and would actually appreciate volunteering (as opposed to the scary French ladies who don't know they need me(jokes!)) and seemingly a great opportunity to both serve and practise my French. And, randomly, to talk about God in an incredibly receptive atmosphere. It was quite remarkable.

You may think "Kat(i)e most of that is hardly 'working' for The Lord is it, at some points it is Him working for you..." Fair enough, it is not a hard life but I still find that every day, whether it is volunteering and feeling good about yourself; taking street people for icecream and learning loads (my favourite quote "I've never tasted bad icecream, have you?" sums up the philosophy of that happy gent); being blessed with sunbathing and friendship and BBQs or just tidying the flat, is a day for doing His will. For one thing, He wants us to be happy and enjoy life! I like it a lot, I never had so much purpose and I never felt less of a need to achieve. I love how He keeps clarifying His love and provision 'til I can barely argue back (though I still do at times). I think maybe one day doubt will end up 'dying the death of a thousand qualifications'. I mean, as a scientist, how much evidence does one need??

Watch this space for comments on men in the church, men in the world and, hopefully, lots of non-feminist and a few non-religious things too... My list of ideas is growing at a faster rate than my availability; I don't know how people find time for a job!

Progress

When homeless people first started giving me their mobile numbers I got really confused. Talk about 'modern times' when you have a phone but not a bed... But then it made sense to me. How else are they to plan their social life? I mean, it's not like they can have a landline is it.

Blur said that modern life is rubbish. I'm not sure I concur with that; BGB would not be here were it not for the internet... but still, we are a bit too dependent aren't we? T'other day (OK, this was about three months ago and would have been blog no.3 were I to have gotten around to talking about it then) I was on my way home from Darryl's when I realised I did not have my phone. I managed a good 30 seconds without it but as soon as I noticed life stopped. Telling the others to go on without me while I go back to pick it up, I was suddenly alone; stranded in the island that is 'nophone'. This turned from an irrational insecurity to a real problem as I realised that the trusty door code (best kept secret in Geneva) was stored in my mobile so I never had to worry about forgetting/remembering it. My backup would normally be to call from downstairs - not gonna happen was it?

So there I was: standing in the dark street at about 11pm at night, shouting up 4 floors in the vain hope that Darryl will hear me through an open window (even though he normally shuts them to keep the noise of the busy street out). Is that how people used to do it in the olden days?

Aside: I had a friend once without a mobile (or 'cell'); but she got one about a month ago. Then the other day I got got a phone call, she rang me on it just to see how: she'd only ever done texting (sms-ing) and hadn't a clue! Some people take longer, but eventually even she has become caught up in the technology bug...

But when it comes down to it, was it the 'old methods' that helped me? Not at all! I realised after a few minutes (of looking mental) that I had my laptop with me (I had been blogging in Starbucks before YAGs) so I just sat on the step, fired it up and checked my downloaded mail inbox. It was technological progress that that had saved the day, not looking back.

I like to think that if God can answer prayers using a computer He can't despise technology that much (wow, this post did not start out as Amish bashing!). I had asked Robyn to take my laptop home for me and then last minute decided not to bother; thus my desperate prayer outside Mike Wong's was fulfilled 5 minutes prior in front of Kafé Deko. But then, time and space not really a problem for Him are they?

On the way out I managed to fall down the stairs whist holding my computer, I think this is less the fault of technology and more flip flops on stone steps. I do that *quite* a lot... I am still, it seems, subject to the laws of gravity and friction. Damn it. My reaction to the situation was frustration and angst (anyone who saw my Facebook status that night would testify to that fact...!). Not something I am feeling nearly so much these days. But then, as the song goes, "Little by little, everyday..."

So, really, progress is all right by me. And, just for the hell of it, let's chuck in a biblical reference! Not wanting to akin myself to a tanned goatskin with the legs and tail cut off, I am very much enjoying the new wine. (Have I taken a reference and completely altered the meaning? Do tell me if so. I am, after all, only a month and 10 days old and still very much learning...)

À la prochaine!

The streets are alive with the sound of...

Music! Obviously. Actually not, there are lots of sounds the streets could be alive with; not least football fans (at the moment in Geneva anyway). Then there is screaming, sirens, gun fights, domestics... on the whole I think music may be the only nice sound that the streets could be alive with. Not so much obvious as relieving.

This is the weekend of the Fête de la Musique in Geneva. Woo! What a wonderful day was had in town. Fabulous. And glorious weather for the first time in too long. (Note that today I was not a stupid sun person!) Though it does leave one feeling how much better Geneva would be if the other 51 weekends of the year (wait, 50 'cause l'Escalade rocks too in a cool winter way) had as much activity. It's just so festive to sit out in the balmy evening with music all around and that lovely air of holiday fun. I know, I know; it's like Christmas: only good 'cause it's once a year (well, Christmas does have other merits but my past 22 have been spent in a secular haze so I am yet to know for sure what it is like from the significant angle).

The day started slow. Robyn and Caro are both with me this weekend which, aside from a lot of hormone charged tension (!) means we had the pleasure of rising together, dining on a breakfast of fruit (I was gifted a sackful yesterday by my generous benefactor), putting the washing out to dry and heading down to Parc des Bastion early afternoon to see what it had to offer. Word of advice - don't buy sushi in Paquis then carry it all the way across town in the blazing sun. Let's just say out stomachs are in God's hands (it's a good thing Caro mended the toilet!). I think that raw fish should only be consumed in air conditions restaurants or ice fields. Anything else just feels and tastes wrong.

We took a long time getting round to seeing anything. But when we did it was ace! Met up with a few friends from church, one of whom brought their two adorable children - 8 weeks and at a rock concert; that kid will not be able to help being cool! One thing I'll say is this: the Swiss are definitely dull. I have withheld judgment for a long time on this one but seriously, who doesn't dance to rock'n'roll? Everyone but me apparently! I mean, to the point that people acknowledged with wonder that I was doing it at all... I am literally lost for words on what I think of this phenomenon. It's definitely not natural that is for sure.

It seems to rub off on others too. I went to a reggae concert with Dave and Lindell this eve and I found them sitting on chairs by the stage. Not impressed. Like I said at the time, I should not be showing two black men how to dance. The thing about reggae music, I have realised, is this: they talk incredibly fast and move incredibly slowly. Go figure.

I love music. All different kinds. The problem is, I hear it and it's cool but I don't know who it's by or even what name the style goes by so I have no hope of a) finding it again and making it mine or b) being able to answer that really frustrating question of "What kind of music are you into?" I hate it when people say "anything" 'cause that sounds like they are trying to be non-committal and fit whatever you want to hear. I can't say "everything" 'cause I don't know enough and I definitely don't want to say "The Spice Girls" 'cause, limiting factor aside, them being the last band I was a 'fan' of does not make them my favourite. I'm semi-actively seeking to learn more about music so feel free to tell me what your liking at the moment and I may well go listen and tell you what I think (this is me saying "please help make me cool" by the way).

I have run out of things to say about it all. I saw my friend's daughter's Modern Jazz trio after seeing her play with a Ragga band last night. That's quite cool. There was a walking on the spot brass band covering Natalie Imbruglia and others who we listened too as we hung outside La Clemence (or La Cloche as the locals call it - bit of an insight there) early evening. We saw a pig in a buggy (pic to follow...)!

It was just nice to be out of the house and not to think about things too much, or at least not to think about doing things. I have become very aware these days of why God commanded a day of rest. When the body is tired the mind and the emotions find it very hard to cope and this has a tendency of overshadowing the spirit. Jesus said "For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." in Matthew 11v30 (thank you Robyn for pointing me towards that little gem when I really needed it!) so if you find yourself with too much on your plate then you aren't actually carrying His burden; or if you are you have forgotten to get into the yoke. Resting is one of His constructions to ensure we can cope and, since God by his very nature probably did not need to stop on the 7th day, maybe that was Him creating rest. That one was my brother-in-law's and I liked it.

On that note, I'm going to bed!

Postdated Illustrations

Here are a few pictures that go with some of my past blogs. At the moment I haven't got space on my hard-drive for the travel ones but one day they might make their way here too...


Evidence for the story in Clichès and close calls. The angle doesn't do justice to the numbers by the way!

The November YAGs retreat weekend. Where Robyn and I first spent quality time together and the relationship began to blossom... Just as a bit of background to An affair to remember. This shot was taken on a hike up Le Mole in France (there's a story in there when I get the time).


This is the dear Cleopatra. Awwwwwwwww! Who's Cleopatra? See here: Cleopatra comin' at'cha and other incites.


This is the best pic I can find that demonstrates my grey hair (Everything is meaningless...). It also shows what a lovely pair Robyn and I make and how the reconciliation was really worth it (It's the little things)!

My sister came to see me Taking The Plunge. It was ACE and I loved having her here. We were both tackling fears together: she took flight and I plunged (it occurs to me that were we to have switched actions it would be terribly detrimental to both concerns...).

Well who'd have thought?! Just because it may possibly be the most Beautiful picture ever. This one is from my 'B' party. No labeling here, those who know you know you... ;)


Isn't this the most FABULOUS picture ever? Left to right (in descending order) Teresa, me, Gemma, The Girl With Brown Curly Hair. From the crazy day in the parc as mentioned in Coincidence?

I shall try and add visuals as I go from now on. Also, I do in time want to acknowledge fabulous things/events/people that haven't been mentioned on the blog as yet since, believe it or not, my life is bigger than what I write about on here! And it started before April 27th 2008, though some may argue that was merely the shadow of an existence...

Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool...

Right. Time to tell you about Jardin de Montbrilliant. It rocks!

I hung out in the park today with three homeless Jamaican men. I met them before my trip at the 'soup' (I've never seen them serve soup) kitchen on Rue de Montbrilliant and it was really cool 'cause 'til I did my lack of French was making me feel pretty useless; however, as the token Anglophone I was the only one who could actually talk to them. Today it was like being part of a 'crew': playing musac in the park through portable speakers and improv-ing over the top. Lindell, David, Sharpman and me - Blandie! As in bland. Nice.

We wanted to start working on getting some music up and running in that community. The vision for this came about a few weeks ago...
I first went down to JdM with a group from a local English speaking church and we had such a great time. There were plenty of volunteers and this gave us loads of freedom to speak to people as we served them. The result of this was that I got to do some singing with one chap (he was wearing a Beatles shirt and me a Johnny Cash so we connected on the common passion of music) which was ace! From here we had a proper good party with several others joining in on different numbers and a bit of reggae dancing to the macarena when someone put on the sound system. That was proper sweet!
Leaving there with a big grin I headed to the International School to see one of my students in a play. That place has the most amazing facilities and I have not seen kids in that healthy a school environment, well, ever. Really got me thinking and aspiring for things to be that successful back home in the education system. Moreover, I realised just how stark the contrast was between the morning and the afternoon.
And all this with the new filter of Christianity as well.

For the first time I realised how my objectives needed to be reset.

I have always had a passion for education, particularly with youth, in a bid to see improvements across the whole of society. Seeing communities brought together and supporting one another like 'back in the day' and generally seeking and implementing a solution that would make things better for everyone. A nice healthy dose of idealism. This day I saw a great example of things heading in that direction, that is at the school. I also saw the reality that was people who did not fit into this system. The question of "Is there a potential formula that means we could ever find a way where there will not be those excluded, suffering, underrepresented and generally discounted in society?" was reawakened. I always wanted to believe Yes and my goal was to find a way to see that happen...

But as a Christian I find that the answer is just No.

Not because I am more negative about sin or Satan or anything like that but simply because it is part of our call to look after the sick and the poor and the broken and do as Jesus did. Not to change the world but simply to be physicians and caretakers for the interim. On top of this is the realisation that I am not super woman and no matter what I like to think about potential, I myself am not God.

That is not to say that a) We shouldn't try to improve things. We are a long way from the best we can be and there is still a commitment to care for and love one another and strive for the propagation of this; and b) That God can't do amazing things making the impossible possible by His fabulous power and the work of His Holy Spirit (Wooo! The last member the Trinity finally gets a tag!).
I suppose my point really is that the objectives in this world, when you look from "The Kingdom's" perspective, are different to the secular approach of striving for perfection. Strange that with God I am now less passionate about making everything 'better'.

So. Music? Well, after all this thought provoking stimulation I then went on to have a cool jam session with Robyn and Caro and it was so great me that when me and Robyn debriefed on the rest of the day it seemed 'begging' to be included. Then my hubbie had a brainwave: Homeless Choir! Now, glib cheese aside the vision has become a community based music project, tapping into the individual styles to be found in that place.

I suppose when it comes down to it, with the understanding that there will always be those in need, the immediate call to change the basics of the situation wanes a little. If this is their life in all its fullness why not give a little more than a meal, an occasional bed and a lukewarm shower? Afterall, we all know that God hates the lukewarm.

So, what will come of this we are yet to see but prayers appreciated from all readers that go in for that. (Hee hee, and prayers for all readers that don't go in for that too! Lol.)

Peace out.

Stop The Press

I was going to write about a fun time had with rafting today (though I am now publishing on Sunday as I never got round to finishing the post). First day back in Geneva and I went off on some rapids going at it hardcore and even swimming down a mini-waterfall. Cool or what!

But then something even more amazing happened... I lost my virginity!! Shock value is to be attributed to Robyn, you know what that saucy minx is like. Today was the first time I ever drove a car on the 'wrong' side of the road. Actually it was the right side but it definitely felt strange.

Kudos to be attributed to Beautiful Brian for being so muchos generous and trusting of me with his mega beast of a car. (Though I did later find out he is already scheduled in for a paint job in two weeks!) We were having a BBQ and had shamefully forgotten the marshmallows so he the darling that he is said I could take his car to the Intermarché down the road. I did a roundabout and everything!! And I know that other people were happy for me 'cause I got all kinds of lovely encouraging beeps ;-)

Yeah, first time on the other side; first time in years in an automatic (you may think it's easier but when you are using the break as a clutch...); first time in 6 months that I have even been on the road and all this in a giant 4x4 machine. Good thing I prayed!

The rafting was excellent as well and yet another new experience. As was the dins afterwards: I tried the North America treat smorges (sp??) which takes the classic melted mallow and sandwiches it between Graham Crackers and then adds chocolate. Those Yanks sure like to take things to a new level... Also, beforehand me and the Mr/Mrs went to the international school fair (kurmesse) and set up a stall for her peace building work - I got to do hand printing!! We had a whole judo class dressed in white join in, so yet more risk taking...

Taking risks. It is fun and the results are all the better for it, since you would never have the win if you didn't make the gamble. I have not really mentioned my time in Zurich yet, simply cause I have been 'quite' busy, but I learned a lot there not least about the idea of healing. I know God can do it and I am quite excited to think that maybe 'one day' I will see it first hand in a really real way but well, why not make one day today?

Miracles in general are a tricky thing since, let's face it, they don't always happen the way we ask. I mean take healing: the Bible says ask and it shall be given; it also says that God wants to see people made well and Jesus certainly never picked and chose. So when you look at 'failed prayers' there is a lot of space for potential hurt and confusion. And one of the reasons is that the issue of insufficient faith get bandied about. Well, I asked the guy at the meeting and he was pretty cool about it. He said that Yes, faith is integral but in so many ways. The faith of the receiver, the prayer, even other people around can all be seen in different bible stories (lady who bled, when the disciples prayed, the friends of the guy who got lowered...) but lack of faith is not sufficient to get in the way of healing if God so desires.
"What if some did not have faith? Will their lack of faith nullify God's faithfulness? Not at all!" (Romans 3: 3&4a)
So I think that attaching blame or judgment to those that do not see healing just isn't on.

Because the thing is, we can never understand what God is doing in the bigger picture. There is a difference between getting to know God better and getting to know God and He will always surprise us if he wants to. (Aside: I was saying today that in the past two weeks I had been 'wise' twice! A 'good friend' turns round and says to me that maybe my spiritual gift is Surprise! Meanie. Not totally biblical but totally funny as an idea of what that gift might look like... Back to God...)

One of the key things about the whole question though does seem to be boldness. We need to be able to ask God and be prepared for bad answers, no answers, rejection and foolish appearances. (On the subject of foolish appearances I was sitting on the train from Zurich to GVA yesterday and had a lovely seat: quiet carriage and space to even put my feet up and rest on the table. Then the ticket man comes along and I had even learnt to have my demi-tariff ready. Not sufficient. He looks at it then at me and sternly points out that I was in 1st class. Whoops! I had not meant to at all, it was one of those double decker trains and I didn't know they did classes. Nothing is worse than packing up and realising for the first time that everyone around was really posh and must have been looking at me dodge the whole way; then walking through all the other carriages with people clearly knowing why you were moving; and then arriving in 2nd class to realise that the reason the guard didn't trust you was 'cause it was choca block with soldiers and football fans and they all saw me looking for a seat with 3 bags in tow and probably also knew that I had been, how shall we say it, dislodged? Good thing I don't have to be ashamed anymore isn't it! Back to God...)

But it is hard not to feel foolish or indeed afraid of being let down. That is where the risk taking comes in. Sometime asking God for a miracle is the biggest risk of all because your faith has the potential to be damaged or nullified if the results are not what you hoped.

For example...

I was trying to unscrew a really tight bit on an easel today and it would not budge. So, I thought: let's pray. If God can release demons He sure can loosen bolts. I was totally confident in this new exciting idea of the miraculous and yet it was not moving. Bit deflating actually 'cause even though I am aware that you can't assume God would answer just so, in a way I was like "why not?" Doesn't He wants to help and bless us and is generally the King of the Universe...?

Anyway, we get on with the problem solving and two minutes later I realise that that bolt did not need undoing. In fact, it was holding a large part of the construction together...! I can truly see now that that prayer was not one to be answered.

But what would have happened if there was not this saving factor of a reason? How could I have reconciled that unanswered prayer? Well, maybe the thing is that there always is - a reason that is. Somewhere God has underlying purpose, we just need to be aware that we cannot always understand it. There are constructions that are harder to figure out than the mechanical design of an easel.

So, risk taking is scary. And I think more so with God than in the physical world (unless the physical world involves being fully dependent on God to be your own personal ski instructor! I will not go on another tangent today though...) as there you can see the full extent of the outcomes and have a rough idea of what you are working with. But, with that step of boldness comes huge rewards and so given the screw was not a complete let down maybe next time I will try for sommat else...

Sorry about the length of the post. Everyone that reaches the end gets a Gold Star!

A Postcard from the Emerald Isle

Seeing as you are still checking in on the blog, thanks by the way, I feel like I should write a quick note to you all.

Bristol. Wopnderful. Lovely time with sister, Ana and new bar/restaurant place. Excited to return, loved the fact that it was the same but yet different. Update on the Oreo's: there is a big campaign to bring them in and they even have Oreo McFlurry. Love it!

Dublin. Ace. The Irish are friendly, all is forgiven from past experiences of them. I met a museum man that was wonderful and friendly and told us the following:
That he was the original caveman, never learnt to drive, never had a mobile phone, didn't have a passport. He was cool. Told us he liked to walk his dog but had little success teaching him how to switch on the TV... very fabulous not withstanding the accent which just made it momentous. Art gallery good, food good, beer good, very aware that there is lots to sample in life and little (relatively speaking) time so just gotta take what you can and chill out.

Hopefully beach tomorrow and the Guiness factory.

In other news, Darryl is a liar. I heard him speak French.

In summary: Bailey's cheese cake is a gimic, Irish stew is not; it is confirmed that God resides in the UK and Ireland as well as Switzerland-yet to pass judgement on Hungary and Austria but it looks good...

Now have many things to do, hostel internet may run out and anyway how sad am I to be here and not doing something Irish or at the very least sociable. This must be the fastest blog I have ever written and the quality will be testimony to that. Oh well, what can you do.

Last funny anecdote to keep you interested: Robyn and I rolled down a hill in skirts. It's pretty rubbish as far as funny stories go but the pictures are cute and I can't be arsed to think harder.

Ta ta!

Coffee and Sacraments

It's been a whole day since I blogged. You think you've suffered, imagine what it's like in my head with all the latest ideas swimming about. Think about it, if I can publish 7 posts over 2 days when things are quiet imagine how much I have to write about when I've been too busy to blog?

So, what will this one be about then? I think I shall write about today now and then maybe do yesterday this evening, if that makes sense. It’s not that I think I have to give a detailed account of my whole life on here (well, it would be ideal obviously but a little over reaching me thinks) and indeed I am still behind when it comes to cool stories from two weekends ago. It's just I’ve just had lots of fabulously cool things happen and 'profound' thoughts crop up that I want to share.

First off, I am in Starbucks writing this. And it is the one by the hairdressers (Rive); AKA the one with the mean lady. I arranged to meet Robyn here after music practise and the risk factor didn’t occur to me until I was in the queue and saw her behind the counter. It was definitely her and short of upping stakes and heading to the other side of the river (which wasn’t really an option) I was going to have to ask her for my coffee *expresses look of trepidation*. So, I decided to pray. Just a quick bless her and bless my Venti Frappuccino Mocha Light avec noisettes. Do you know what, it worked. I got service with a smile, she doubled checked my order and it all came through perfectly. I even went back, skipping ahead of a long queue, to ask for 2 Internet access cards and she gave me them with a smile. Now, that to me is like honey from a rock.

Rubbish, I've written loads of junk without even going into the revelations I had planned. Tell you what, I’ll make a quick comment about the post-baptism week instead then write another one later to break it up for you.

It has been cool. I feel really different. I am quite delighted by this fact give that at the time it felt like a big risk and I was scared of a let down; more so than in coming to this Starbucks. I suppose last Sunday was a little bit like today. I was standing in that queue and saying “God, I could walk out right but I have a lot staked on this (a good seat, a settled friend and no nearby alternative) so could you just take over the situation please”. Similarly last week as I waited to get dunked it was all about “God I have a lot staked on this and absolutely NO alternative but there is still a lot ahead that terrifies me so would you be able to take over”. Tenuous analogy but true. So, really what I am saying is that even over one week I am more convicted of the decision to do it. I am a New Creation and really feel like it is the start of the rest of my life – a proper rebirth. He does comes through for you. Woohoo! :-D

Yeah, baptism is great, it is a physical act that works in the spiritual world and makes an actual tangible difference within. You do need to have some faith else it is just getting wet, but a mustard seed’s worth is enough for God to do great things with. Even now I find myself liking the obvious sins less and less (leaving it clear for me to notice and struggle with the less obvious ones mind!) and that is ‘cause I am changing. And once He has you He won’t let you go and you will only become more and more part of his 'flock' (check out John chpt 10) so I am excited to see how I will feel at 2 weeks old. Yeah there is temptation from all sides and regular hiccups (and that is only the ones I am aware of) but I am not the same person I once was and that in itself gives me a fighting chance.

In everything pray. You will grow more, glorify God better and get the coffee that you ordered complete with a smile!

It's the little things

Robyn has moved back in. This actually happened last Thursday. The trial separation really made us see what is important; that floosie from Canada is long gone and going to Africa can really give back some perspective so, fresh off the plane from Liberia, Brooker-Bright gave it another go...

It was always going to happen I realised. Our relationship was far too significant to give up on without trying one last time. The whole time she was away I became increasingly aware that I could not turn her away were she to return; the love was not at all dead. Every little reminder drew a tear to the eye - from a carrier with an out of date Matin Bleu and the last piece of a chocolate bar (mmmm!) to an old bag with mouldy rye bread and dirty 'socks' in: I tidied up the rubbish, ate the tasties and did the washing as I awaited her return.

The thing is she gets me. For example last night after dinner - which we cooked together ate together and left on the washing up pile together - she offered to me to scrape her plate of the leftover "zucchini" (I think you mean courgette), scrambled egg and maple syrup, 'cause she knows how much I hated waste.

It's the little things isn't it?

Taking The Plunge

Today I got baptised. That is exciting but it is late so I will probably not say too much. I do however want to write sommat rather than nothing.

I was going to tell a cool story all about God manifesting Himself to me/a huge coincidence that looked to me like God manifesting Himself but I am tired and don't think I would give it enough credit so instead I will make small talk about what a nice day it was.

I also want to note that I am aware this entry misses out a lot of gaps in the story between thinking God exists and becoming a fully fledged (though very much baby) Christian. This will just have to remain so until I slot in some random insights (or not so random incites) that may go part way to explain, though cannot account for the mystery that is faith.

It was very scary for me to do this 'cause I am not one for major commitment or indeed final decisions (you should see me in a restaurant and then try and translate this to life altering choices) and baptism is kinda like getting married to Jesus (with a bit of a funeral for sin thrown in) so I find it to be quite a significant option. However, fear is a good thing to conquer and so that is what we did. You gotta take risks at some point or nothing will ever happen and the good thing about God is He makes promises that He has to keep so though it is like getting married to the invisible man He can still be held accountable in the physical dimension. And, bonus, by definition of omnipotence and such He is better husband material than most.

After a lovely if not overwhelming morning, vast lunch gathering at Spaghetti Factory and Starbucks with my wonderful sister (she flew over for the big event even when I made a big disclaimer that I may not do it) and my fabulous Canadian lady-husband I suddenly found myself 'absconded' by them to a surprise 'B' party. That was cool 'cause they themed everything around the letter which is GREAT when that involves Brut Bubbly, Bread, Brie, Biscuits, Brown chocolate (tenuous but well worth it) and Beautiful Brian! It was really touching both that they fore-planned this and that the dearies that organised it went totally against my secrecy wishes in order that it would happen 'cause they were sure I would 'take the plunge' even if I was not!

So, I just cut out half of this post 'cause I'd written a final thought last night that grew too big and I know what you people are like about getting bored halfway through. Now there is no good ending I shall just tail off...

S'pose when the subject is baptism I don't have to be all conclusive, what with it being about a new beginning an' all.

Everything is meaningless...

Well, I just spent an amazing weekend doing loads of cool stuff in Geneva. Classic tourist trips like the UN tour and Red Cross museum coupled with enchanting random days full of new friends and strange experiences. What did I say at every turn? "I'm going to blog about this". And what am I now going to write about? Coffee shops and hair dressers...

Today I had a music lesson. It was not as progressive as I would have liked: spent most of the time gossiping and having a hoarse throat (not least after the as yet undescribed weekend) but it was quite fun. From here I decided to grab a Starbucks as I had a good book in my bag and an hour to kill before my colour appointment. This was a bit of a treat as I have been abstaining for a long time; partly due to general busyness couple with a *slight* need for detox... So I went for one of my two favourites: hazelnut mocha with non-fat milk and whipped cream (the non-fat justifies the whip). I got it venti (with a maple scone) and it came out grande so I sent it back. There is a big difference and I had been looking forward to this for ages so saw nowt wrong with getting from a service what one has asked, particularly when I put them under no pressure and did it with a smile. It was not my mistake... but sending it back sure was - there was no hazelnut syrup next time which I was partially devastated by and the cup was not even close to acceptably full. The look that returned my smile said "I have the power to destroy this small pleasure and I have just done it". Still, I tell myself that there is more to life than coffee and to give her the satisfaction of making me miserable was not where it was at. I read I eat I buy shoes (lovely brown leather 'thongs' to be precise). A bit concerning my card didn't work but hey, I had cash and I coped for over a week last-time without even that.

Hair time. Finally. I had REALLY been looking forward to/in need of this one. Mirrors of late have not been my friends. Les racines were showing big time and as I am currently growing it longer I decided that it was time to steer away from porn star blonde and into a more sophisticated 5-star blend.

Foolish to have expectations on arrival: never before Switzerland have I met more opinionated hair dressers. It may have something to do with the fact I don't speak great French but whenever I suggest one thing (using images are good for this) they suggest the opposite. Like the tousled choppy look that turned into a short bouncy bob or, on this occasion, the strawberry blond/dark red low lights that would look better in... purple.

Apparently my colouring does not suit rouge. What the hell does my colouring suit then?? Helloo... Ging-a. I was already unconvinced by the platinum and I now wonder at the mix of platinum, violet and dark brown that has blended together in a very fashionable, Solomon would be envious (if he weren't so damn Godly), silvery-grey.

Still. I read my book, I wait patiently and I think about a home dye job. My hairdresser was nice and I got to practise my French. Could have been worse I tell myself. Then I get to work, sit around for hours watching a kid draw a picture he is copying off the internet and helping him with bad French grammar (my specialty). All the time getting quite into the collection of letters I am reading to drown the boredom, if not more. I am really late there and had to go straight to French, both making the mistake of not telling my teacher I wouldn't be there till 8pm and not getting the chance for dinner either.

All told, sounds a bit like all the things I should have enjoyed were a little bit sour. But you know what, it was a ruddy bloody lovely day. 'Cause all the important things were great! Robyn turns up in Geneva and though it was stupidly early and she was a bit smelly (jokes! Not at all :-D) it was the best start ever. I get a text from a new friend who is really cool and totally exciting to meet up with again. I had a wonderful time with my French teacher despite the aforementioned circumstance (because that is all it was) and was reminded of the value and blessing that is our friendship. I even had the chance to keep an otherwise boreder (English grammar ain't so hot either!) 13 year old boy from watching cartoons and rotting his mind. Really, with all this in play, who cares about hair and coffee and money and supposed freedom from work?

And it did help that the book I was reading all day long was The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis (there may well be a review to come...) which just kept reminding me fabulously of how unimportant the trivial niggles are in the grand scheme of things, yet how much they can get in the way of what is real and relevant. Hence I ended up feeling particularly free from all that shite as it ridiculed what value we can give to such things; showing what it can lead to yet how we really don't need to be subject to it at all! I loved the moment when a French woman on the bus said to me "un bon livre" and we shared a common appreciation and emancipation.

For sure I fell into about a million traps of anger, resentment, vanity, gluttony, superiority, judgement, selfishness, indifference, slothfulness and more. But who doesn't? The fact is, I am going to go to bed in a minute (with my Canadian hot water bottle) knowing that all that crap can't come with me and palpably sticking up my fingers to all the nasty works of the world that tried to bring me down today. Careful mind, trying to keep my humility intact... Damn it, there it goes.

Eh bien. Tomorrow is another day... :-)

P.S. Starting to really love the new colour and am interested to find out how silver foxes are treated in Geneva versus brassy blondes...