Help is at hand

Us humans can be a bit shit when it comes to asking for help. I do not know if this is driven by pride, ego, fear or a crap cocktail of all. Or the cultural conditioning that leaves us b/s-ing ourselves in to believing we should be able to manage everything without help.

Either way, what I do know is that there is no such thing as a human who does not need help sometimes.

Recently I have noticed a growing number of signs in customer services areas. The signs read something like this,

“Our workers will not tolerate abuse. Please treat staff with respect or you will be asked to leave”.

I’ve even seen these signs on the roadworks on motorways. Yes, the disruption of roadworks are irritating, but no, they do not justify abusing those doing their jobs.

The need for such signs is a sad reflection of the times we find ourselves in. What filters down via the tone deaf-ness of too many politicians is a vast disconnect from the everyday person. The social systems in place for us, are so far stretched that they cannot possibly meet the demands placed upon them. This inevitably causes genuine stress for all. And stress in an already over-busy, over-noisy culture, leads to a lack of tolerance and an increase in irritation. We all get terse and tetchy at times especially when the temperatures are beyond our ability to manage well. But being abusive to our fellow human is not acceptable.

We all have legitimate needs and sometimes we cannot access the services we need to meet these needs. But, we do have help at hand. Something I still forget amidst the relentless to-do-ing of the day.

Last weekend I went to a good friends fiftieth party. It was outside in a green space, under a blue sky and a shining sun. Tick, tick, tick. My friend was surrounded by the people who love her and who showed up to celebrate her gift of life, and our gift of friendship with her. More ticks. And I was accompanied by a good friend, who I laugh lots with. Big tick. He is also a serial straight talker which is one of my favourite human traits. I struggle with wonky shooters who say one thing before doing the opposite.

Anyway, following a food fest worthy of royalty – not a curled up sandwich in sight, the next part of the party unfolded. This was called Prosecco rounders. As a recovered alcoholic, prosecco is not my bag. Usually anything active especially if competitive, would be my bag. I’m not sure if it was my large floaty, not-conducive-to-running-in, dress, my Friday night fatigue, or my discomfort in crowds of people I don’t know, but I came over, all, ‘I want to hide’.

My friend and fellow recovered alcoholic shot straight in there thrilled at the chance to unleash his competitive beast. Plus, he had suitable shorts and footwear on. And he went on to get a rounder. Yay!

Meanwhile, I took a chair to spectate from the sidelines and try to squash my feeling that I was being a bit of a shit friend. I tried to utilise my invisibility coat of protection which I spent many years developing. And I succeeded for a while.

However, my friend’s husband then appeared by me and did a double take when he saw me hiding on the sidelines. He knows I’m not typically a sidelines person, but a get-out-there and live life the fuller than full way person.

He questioned what I was doing there and why I wasn’t playing. I heard a string of lame arse excuses come out of my mouth. And he called me out on every one of them! Before saying something that struck straight to my spirit. He knows I’m a Christian – I’ve prayed for their son before (prayers answered) and I prayed for his work situation (prayers answered). He said something along the lines of,

“Your man up there would have helped you with the rounders. Why didn’t you ask him? You’re better than this Jo.”

Thank God for the straight shooters!

Instantly, I replied,

“Good answer, you’re totally right.”

And then I sat there a bit stunned.

Often it takes my so called non-believer friends to remind me/call me out when I am not practicing what I preach or trusting the God that I say I believe in! I’ve lost count of the times friends have asked me whether I prayed for something as they have immediately credited God for answering and meeting their needs! 

Similarly, during the worst of the worst of these past few years, my non-Christian friends have regularly reminded me that God had bought me through every previous awful time. I do love praying and it is a non-negotiable part of my day. But it still amazes me how quickly non-Christians see and remind me of the helping hand of God! Sometimes more quickly and clearly than this Christian see’s!

Thank you God for my non-Christian, more-faith-in-you-than-me, friends!

Every morning my favourite part of the day is hanging out with God in nature. I enjoy quality time with him and allowing him the space to speak with me. He fills my heart and spirit with deep gratitude, contentment and wisdom so wise, that it is off the human wise-o-metre. However, sometimes I then forget all about him until the same time the next day.

My friend’s comments reminded me that God is there on hand waiting all day and all night, for me to ask for his help. Not only with the big crisis stuff but the little moments throughout the day too. Whether to thank him when I recognise his helping hand, or to ask for his helping hand when I am struggling. I was reminded that God is interested in every part of my day, large, small or medium sized. If it matters to me, it matters to Him.

Sometimes I remember to ask for his help when I am about to tackle a task that requires me to put my big-girl-pants on and push through my desire to avoid it. It may be removing the squirrel that died in my water butt or the rodent remains from the lounge floor or one of those big skinny-but-scary spiders from the bathroom. I don’t want anything in the shower with me but especially not something with eight legs. Ugh.

Back to the rounders, it wasn’t the end of the world when I didn’t join in with the game. And there are times when we need to say no without guilt or condemnation. But I’m honest enough to know this wasn’t really one of them. Yes, I felt hesitant, yes I was tired, and yes I wanted to hide, but this game was my friends wish for her birthday. And that was what I felt appropriately shit about.

On reflection, I wish I had asked God to help me push through my reticence to join the game. It didn’t even occur to me in the moment, but it shot straight to the heart of my truth detector the second my friend’s husband said it. I’m not going to batter myself about this – I can allow for my own humanity. But what I am going to do is try to remember to ask God to help me as I go through the day, not only at the start.

God is not a part time God, or one who goes off duty, or is too overstretched to have time for us. He loves it when we recognise his presence and desire to help. More so when we acknowledge our need and want for him and ask him to help. Whether with bearing this heat or choosing an outfit for a night out, tackling the tax assessment (groan) or anything and everything in between. He is not only a God for whom there is no job too small, but one for whom there is no job he will not help us with. Wowsers! What an offer.

While he never pesters or pressures us, he always waits patiently for us to ask for his help.

My most often uttered prayer is,

“Help”.

And when I am not so stressed or desperate that I forget, I even add,

“Please”.

These prayers sometimes take time in the natural for the answer to be seen, especially if it is not answered how I want or expect. But I know in my knower that my God hears and responds to every prayer. Mine, yours and ours.

Tribute to a trio of dads

Last weekend I surprised myself by going to Hitchin. On a Saturday. A destination I usually avoid of a weekend due to my dislike of noise making/space taking crowds. And stress inducing parking scenario’s; too many cars, not enough spaces all combined with having to push through my aversion to apps/parking machines. That’s a hattrick of hated situations I prefer to spare myself from of a Saturday.

However, as the monsoons/hailstones were taking a break, I chose to risk life and limb by cycling to Hitchin. Something I find way safer and more enjoyable than driving and trying to park the car.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised that it was warm and dry enough to sit outside in the square. A talented singer was playing by the nearby pub; the sun was popping out periodically and there weren’t too many people. A winning hattrick.

My friend and fellow therapist and I were able to enjoy a good scoff, al fresco. We also caught up on all things life, death and relational.

Our discussions led to the recent death of my dad which led to a deeper dad discussion. We discovered that we shared some similar experiences and feelings about our respective dads.

Afterwards I realised that I’ve had many parent-based conversations lately. These have highlighted that no matter how old we are, we are all wired with the longing for the love of a father. To make us feel seen, held, safe, comforted, helped, protected and guided. None more so than when the sh*t hits the fan; whether we are behaving like a bit of a sh*t ourselves, someone else is, or another sh*t bomb has landed from life.

We are all dealt different cards when it comes to our biological dads. Some dads are absent whether physically (or dead) or emotionally, others are distracted/pre-occupied/neglectful, controlling or plain abusive. And some are present as never ending sources of love, support, money … most are somewhere in between.

Whatever hand we were dealt on the dad card front, the stresses and strains of middle age can evoke a childlike longing for a ‘parental’ figure. We may want a parent to make us feel like we don’t have to hold it all in, or all together, or all on our own. Especially in times of transition, change, uncertainty, loss, grief etc when we may regress to feeling small, frightened and unsettled. And we may long for a proper grown up to take the weight off our shoulders, put their big, strong arms around us and lead us forward step by step. (Do any of us feel qualified to claim official grown up status?)

We may long for someone safe and solid to hold us steady while we work out and walk through, challenging and changing times. We may long for this to be a parental presence who offers a strength that give us the comfort, consistency and compassion that we crave when we feel vulnerable. We may want to surrender to a childlike status, free from the weight of grown up responsibilities, decisions and adult to-do-ing. And we may long to feel safe to trust in the helping hand of one who see’s and knows more than we do and always wants the best for us.

And that’s when I realised that while no human parent can meet all these hopes, I’ve hit the jackpot with God as the dad who can! God likes to show me lessons in three’s as it often takes three times of him showing me something similar, to secure my attention! But as three is also a holy number, he often blesses me in threes too. When it comes to the dad department, I got three of them!

The biological dad was a great provider while growing up. He also imparted his unstoppable tenacity for hard graft and pursuing his passions. And his enormous capacity for laughing at himself. I am grateful for each of these. At least I am when I realise there is also a time to not be unstoppable on the grafting/passion pursuing front! There were other more difficult aspects of him, some of which I have also inherited! And I continue to work with and through these in therapy, under God’s genius and gracious guidance!

And God is the only perfect parent. He accepts me always, however I am. And his love changes me, always, however I am, into something better. Not out of demand, pressure or fear of punishment, but because his love is so pure that it is impossible not to be changed in its presence.

My propensity for being literal serves me well in that I take God at his word. Mostly. Except sometimes when I’m very afraid. But I never withhold what is in my heart from him, whether good, bad or very bad! Because I understand that nothing within me is hidden from him! So I bring it all before him openly and promptly. And because God accepts me because of who he is, not who I am (phew), I am free to bring the best, worst and everything in between to him. I love this. Because he is the greatest help with working through the ugliest parts within me; thoughts, feelings, whatever. He helps me to turn these in to healing, learning and liberation. Wowsers. What a God, what a dad, what a parent.

And he always see’s what folk are up to behind my back – I don’t have to worry about those who do not have my back or even my front, because God has got all of me covered. All I have to do is remain focused on my heart and my conduct, as directed by the ultimate deity.

When I am struggling under the weight of life stresses, unexpected problems or self-inflicted exhaustion, God reminds me who he is. And asks why I am trying to do the heavy lifting without him, given this is his speciality. When I get this, I give what weighs me down to him, leaving me free to walk lightly into whatever God calls me to.

Of course, like most humans, I try to go back and grab these back off God! But fortunately, he’s patient enough to bear with me and work with me without finger wagging or ‘haven’t you got this, yet-ing!’ He continually reminds me through repeated experience that he is trustworthy. Always. In every situation. And my life is always easier when I remember this, in practice and let him carry the load!

As with all relationships, trust is the key foundation. Without trust there will always be problems. And trust is something we can cultivate and grow over time. The more I see, experience and realise God is trustworthy, in actions not just words, the more I can lean in to and upon Him. And practice letting him do the heavy lifting. Life feels much lighter and easier like this. When I remember, in actions not just words!

I remain immensely grateful that when I feel small, afraid or childlike, I have the Father of God to simply and safely sink in to. To rest in his presence and allow him to hold me while I recover or regroup or various other words starting with ‘re’. He is safe. He does not judge me for sharing my heart, or victim blame or shame me for having a heart that is soft and healthy enough to feel hurt. He is a true Father and God of comfort and compassion who constantly calls me to him. To relax into him and switch right off. Safe. Finally. To stop acting like I must hold it all within and together, on my own. He is calling me to take the heavy hurts of my heart, the complex situations/decisions of my mind and the steps I am unsure how to take to him. He really does know the way, and he really does love to show me/you and us his way. Which really is best, in the long term!

With God as a dad, I learn something new every single day. For God is always present, always speaking and always showing me what I need to see and learn. When I am paying attention! Or he does things in threes to capture my attention! While my mind is easily distracted, God knows my heart is always hungry for him and his teachings.

And then last but by no means least, is my Church dad aka the one and only legend, that is Johnboy. The dad who has been dad-in-service for about seventeen years. He has shown me; availability, presence (in person and prayer), kindness, patience, tolerance, humour, practical help, consistency, generosity, faith, encouragement and what we all crave; parental love; unconditional; given out of their goodness, not dependant on ours, huge portions of. Which inevitably comes full circle in time!

I cannot thank Johnboy enough for all he has shown and gifted me with through his parental caring presence. Especially during the horrors of the past four years. He is one in ten million to me. He shows me the love of God in human form. He is not perfect, any more than I am. No, he probably is more perfect than I am, actually! But he is not perfect. And I am not by a long shot! But I don’t need him to be. He is sincere of heart. And this is what gives him ongoing access to mine.

Johnboy – you are a gift from the ultimate giver of good gifts – thank you for being you.

A trio of dads. Lucky me huh!

This Father’s Day, I will be praising God for the trio of dad-cards he dealt me.

Some helped to heal,

where others caused harm,

but God transforms all

through his healing balm.

He leads me through chaos

to his clarity and calm.

Thank you big G,

for always being with me,

the star dad of three

who watches over me

and leads me to be,

so very happee!

That I never face life

Without the presence of thee.

Yippee!

Magical Mondays

This morning I started my day as I start every day. Sat in my prayer chair, opposite the tree, enjoying the utter magic of the early morning. I have a front row seat to the world of wildlife. Whether the cautious squirrel who poses on the fence post podium to eat his findings, or the pigeons flirting in the trees many branches. And the various shaped, sized and sounding winged wonders that sing out from all around. I love, love, love to be an observer of this most magical natural world. From my position here I seek the voice of the one who knows the day I’ll have and the way to navigate it. Magic.

As I work from home in my own magical little bubble, I sometimes forget about the wider world. This morning I was forced out into the world by a routine dental appointment. I was not expecting the volume of traffic I encountered given it was well outside of commuting times. This reminded me that I can never control the external but I can always work on my internal response to it! Along with the never failing, always on-hand-to-help, Almighty!  This is good news for everybody.

And I made my appointment on time. Eventually. I was greeted by a different dental team to previously.

“Oh, you’re a different team”, I blurted out.

“Yes, I am … “, came the reply, followed by an introduction, ending with something like,

“It’s another Monday … groan type noise”.

“Hey, a new Monday equals a brand new day and a brand new week to start again. Don’t forget to seek the magic in a Monday as in any other day!” I chirped, sounding annoyingly chirpy even to my own ears!

However, I do believe that shit, stress and strife await us all. But if we throw away our ability to seek to see the magical that remains within it all, we’re giving away part of the antedote! And I’ve grown through too much shit to do that anymore.

How easy it is to unthinkingly repeat a mantra,

“Mondays are days to moan through the post-weekend misery”.

This makes it a norm that we expect and therefore seek to see materialise. Such a prophecy will often be fulfilled! But do we really want it to be?!

If a job is hated so much that Monday brings genuine misery, do something about it. Stop and seek help to find a different way. I spent over twenty years doing jobs full of Mondays and most other days that felt like an endurance test. (for everyone involved). That was crap.

But eventually I got off my arse, got the help I needed and started to pursue my passions! Aside from the recent horrors of embodied trauma colliding with peri/grief/neurodivergence and burn out, I am now living my dreams. Not without twenty years of slog, blood, sweat, tears and prayers that felt stuck on repeat. And so, sometimes I forget that having worked so relentlessly to realise my dreams, that others are still stuck settling for the ‘same old, same old’, mantra.

WAKEY WAKEY PEOPS!

Life is fleeting, fragile and free for anyone with the heart to receive it, share it, lose it, seek it, find it and keep receiving it.

Make this Monday a turnaround point for Mondays becoming a magical start to the week.

In the words of Van Morrison, there is no need to transform your Monday without the help of the one who can:

“I know that God shines his light on me

Reach out for him, he’ll be there

With him your troubles you can share

If you live the life you love

You get the blessings from above

He heals the sick and he heals the lame

Says you can do it too, in Jesus name

He’ll lift you up and he turns you around

And he puts your feet back on higher ground”.

Yes, yes and yes Mr Morrison and not just on a Monday!

That’s my God (yours if you want him)  – when we call out to him, he loves to show case who he really is. At least he does when we are patient, trusting and committed enough to keep waiting and watching for the wow-ing he loves to give us. In his own sweet time!

Happy Monday peops or if it is not happy, ask for some help from on high.

You have nothing to lose, and all to gain by giving God a try.

Beach-based bliss

Here I am again in my favourite retreat-from-life location, by the sea. I love it! The sea never loses its appeal to me. From that first glimpse of the sea to the sound of the waves. I never tire of the sensory delight of these scenes. My soul savours and inhales them with the fervour of a starved animal with an insatiable appetite!

Fortunately, the night before travelling I was organised enough to pack the car, so there was no need to think or organise myself in the morning pre-caffeine. I can’t drink coffee before I set off as it sets off a series of seemingly never ending trips to the loo. My pre-travel organisation freed me to get up, throw the fridge and freezer contents into their bags and bugger straight off.

I love driving on clear roads ahead of the masses.

Shortly after reaching my favourite sea-facing, food-providing establishment, my very favourite table became available. Don’t mind if I do. It is closest to the sea and furthest from the noise creating crowds. Double bonus. Here I sat and devoured my cooked breakfast, large coffee and view of the sea, each with equal enjoyment. All round yum. I usually eat my food with my eyes as I love to look at a colourful display on my plate, as opposed to a beige one. But to have tasty, varied food and a seaview was extra delicious.

After a while a paddle boarder paddled into my vision. Not something I usually see here. The Saturday morning runners are a regular sight. One I try to get ahead of given I don’t have the patience to get stuck behind them while queuing for coffee. But this single paddle boarder was quickly joined by another, then another, then a whole smattering of them.

As the sun was still shining, which was not what the weather had forecast, I could not resist the call to go out to play in it. Once I stepped on to the beach, it became apparent that it is a new Saturday morning thing for paddle boarders to come out en masse alongside the usual swimmers. Quite a hive of water based activity. It looked fun but way too cold for me.

Instead, I absolutely love ambling along the beach, while the sea laps at the shore. Intermittently the sun came out and blasted me, before the cloud coverage chilled me. In, out, in, out, shake it all about. As if it’s not hard enough having a faulty thermostat in perimenopause without the external temperature changing more frequently than a chameleon.

While repeatedly removing my coat, hat and scarf only to replace them minutes later, I reflected on the parallels with a perimenopausal woman. At least those of us struggling to manage our ever changing basal temperatures. The English weather sometimes scorches me one minute before stinging me with hailstone the next. This is possibly the closest a non-peri person could get to sampling the speed with which a peri navigating body temperature can change. Except when this hot and cold malarkey is happening inside the body, we can’t merely walk into an indoor space where the temperature is regulated for us. The joys!

Anyway, while the sun was out to play, I laid down and kicked back on the pebbly part of the beach. I savoured the view of the waves coming in and out. It’s better than television and somehow the constant repeats don’t get boring. At least not to me. I don’t know what it is about the sea that enables me to sit still. I was reflecting last week with a fellow therapist as to whether the movement of the water allows me to be still while watching it. Who knows. I don’t. But I do know that I love water and it helps me to do the thing I’m so naturally shit at … resting.

The sight of the stones on the beach is another visual delight that I never tire of. The more I look at those stones, the more I see how unique and beautiful every single one is. And the more I want to take heaps of them home with me! It makes me feel both happy and sad to remember that my dad did this exact same thing with the beach and the stones. Once he bought me some stones back from one of his beach-visiting trips as he knows I use them in my practice work. Despite all our years of estrangement, our temporary reconciliation revealed that we both enjoyed solo trips to the sea and stealing stones from them! Something that makes me smile now even through my tears.

And now I feel a wave of grief coming through my system just as the waves in front of me are coming through on the sea. Except I don’t feel free to let my waves come through or crash into completion how they want to. Social conditioning means that while being sat in public, it feels unacceptable to start sobbing and snotting all over the place!

It was grief that made me book this break. I know that spontaneous, to-do-list free time is the best gift I can give myself in grief. A chance to not have to simply suck it up and carry on adulting, but to take time out to be still. To have space, stillness and silence so that whatever needs to come up and out, will.

In this case, grief, complicated grief. But it is still grief, of which I have a lot of experience. I know I need to create the space to go with it, rather than against it. To make space for it to arise without pushing it back down. There is a time to push it back down to prioritise the task at hand but if I constantly push it back down, it will constantly push harder to come back up. And I don’t have the energy to fight such a battle which is working on my behalf to release what is costly to keep in!

Anyway, the earlier beach based playtime that preceded my writing, was drawn to a close by my bladders need to be emptied.

Back to the favourite sea facing establishment. The biggest decision I had to make was whether to sit outside or inside. Eventually my love of being outside won out. I promised my love of indoor comforts that I’d return inside if it got too cold or uncomfortable. A fair compromise.

Today feels how weekend days used to feel as a child, like it’s lasting forever. Having got out of bed at 5.30am, it has lasted for seven hours so far with a further three in between me and accommodation check in. I’m starting to feel ready for my non-negotiable daily nap. Another coffee is buying me more time.

The menu in between me and entry to my accommodation, consists of a walk around the charity shop, possibly a run and maybe a read of the paper. Oh yes and a visit to the tatt filled souvenir shop, just because. Absolutely glorious!

How I love the bliss of the beach. Even with the presence of grief.

The Drama – film review

Who isn’t interested in the shadow side of the human condition? Assuming the spotlight is on the shadow side of someone other than us! The Drama brings this theme to life. These shadow parts usually remain as their name suggests, in the shadows! They don’t typically get peacocked about on self-promoting platforms like social media. Hence the exploration of this subject makes this film especially tantalising.

The Drama delves in to the less polished, more private aspects of two couples. Aided by the lubricating powers of alcohol, the conversation flowed into a confessional. This ignited a conflict between the four main characters. Charlie and Emma take centre stage, (un)supported, by Rachel and Mike.

What follows illustrates the impact of this conversation on Charlie and Emma. The new intel challenged what they thought they knew about each another.

We watch them try to navigate the subsequent changing landscape of their relationships. They attempt to integrate their fears, doubts, unanswered questions and consequent actions. This is particularly delicious because it does not deny the mess, madness or meanness that human revelations can bring. All of which unfolds over the course of an already emotional weekend.

The director uses what is not said to illustrate the couple’s internal conflicts, while they attempt to maintain their socially acceptable, public, game faces. However, social expectations around how one should behave, get shot to shit, when emotions explode out in eyebrow raising ways.

The acting was excellent throughout, but it was Rachel who evoked my irritation, alongside an invitation. At least to anyone interested enough in examining their own responses. I realised I was guilty of the exact behaviour I was irritated by in Rachel! I accepted this humble pie flavoured reprimand, followed by the more palatable laughter of recognition that brings release! Eventually!

This film illuminates the way, as humans, we like to measure our own shortcomings on a more forgiving scale than the one we use for others. Likewise, to others, we may dish out bigger portions of judgement, served with smaller portions of grace. I was certainly confronted by my shadowy propensity to judge another while conveniently blind spotting myself a free pass to do the same!

The Drama also explores the power imbalance between the social powers that be, whether self or peer appointed. And those subject to them. This illustrates the potential reality for anyone banished by those powers, to the frosty realms of the outsider. Along with the cost and threat to self and others, of being ostracised.

This film is for anyone honest, humble and interested enough in the shadow side of the human condition. Especially if open to recognising the human flaws and failings highlighted on the big screen, often reflect our own! 

The Drama delivers a huge dose of drama, within the inexhaustible subject of love! This film speaks to the heart. And it invites us to examine who we use our power to judge, include or exclude.

Bank Holiday bliss

A whole seventy-two hour, funfest. At least when I can resist the pull of the ever growing, ever present to-do-list.

I started the weekend as all good middle aged weekends must start – with an early night! Saturday saw a rare but welcome lay in until around 6.30am. The first reason to celebrate, of the day! Wha-hey!

Followed by spending my favourite time of the day in the garden. Here I sat on what I now call my prayer chair. This is an extremely comfortable chair, that I can lean back in, survey the scenes and send up some super-sized prayers to my super-sized God. It is also a chair I have inherited from the family.

There I sat amidst the wonders of wildlife with a spectator’s view into their world, ahead of the other noisy humans awakening. I watched transfixed as the small, big and medium sized birds came and went from their perches on the branches of the large tree. Two robins made an appearance. Or was it the same one appearing twice? The local black squirrel showcased its trapeze skills as it flew through the trees. I shooed a grey squirrel out of my flowers – I’d been wondering what had been digging these up. And I sat and admired my clematis which has exploded everywhere to decorate my cabin.

The bluebells did their beautiful bluebell thing, and I felt grateful that they have planted themselves in my garden. And I felt equally ungrateful that the dandelions, thistles and other ugly weeds have planted themselves throughout my lawn. Along with the resident ants’ nests that reappear every year.

But overall, when I can’t see the sea, this is my next favourite scene to savour. When I can allow myself to simply be and drink it all in.

Such simple, yet rich pleasures. So effective in soothing the soul. Even better, they are all my very favourite thing … FREE.

Saturday was perfect weather to go out on a playdate with a friend, cycling across the vast green fields to a favourite, craft fayre hosting, spot. This was quite the contrast to last months trip to this place, where the sellers had to pack up early due to the extreme winds.

There is something utterly wonderful about relaxing in the sunshine with a drink, overlooking water and watching the activity all around. When done so from a manageable distance from those noise creating crowds!

Here I was also able to indulge in another favourite pastime of checking out all the stunning, if overpriced, gifts in the shop. And thanks to the presence of my second favourite word, ‘sale’, I even splashed out on a few bits! Mostly for my ‘better-buy-when-see’, Christmas stock. Yes, I did just use the C word!

Anyway, we managed to cycle back before energy levels ran out thus avoiding any meltdowns enroute. After a session of the three ‘S’s’, (separately), we treated ourselves to a Turkish takeout and TV Saturday night. Miraculously there wasn’t even any snoring. I can’t say the same about the farting. But what a way to spend a Saturday!

Sunday started with an equally enjoyable 6.30/7am lay in, followed by an equally enjoyable session in the garden prayer chair.

The first prayer that was answered was the one for it not to rain, as I was hosting a meno walk. My prayer to find the start place of this walk without issue, like many prayers, was not answered immediately. After much F’ing and Geoff’ing, I rang another member of the group to ask for help. And I was grateful when they answered their phone and assisted with directions. 

A wonderful walk followed that saw us surrounded by green space style scenery with some water along the way. And accompanied by those with dogs. I love dogs but as Monty does not, I cannot have my own. So I appreciate time with those who do have dogs.

After a coffee and pee stop at a charming, secluded café, I headed home.

I was running late for my lunch and playdate with another friend. This is one with whom we take it in turns to cook lunch, before relaxing in front of a cheesy, no brain required, film. This is inevitably followed by snoring (her) and farting and belching (me). Heaven!

Another 5* rated day.

And today is a designated ‘me day’. I’ve had a lot of social interaction this weekend so I’m recovering with some serious uninterrupted solitude. Bar the birdsong and Monty’s occasional request for a hug.

Thank you God for bank holiday bliss.

And for helping me to ignore the to-do-list. Mostly.

And for the (free) gift of appreciation.

The God of Odd

The god of all including grief,

Who offers us all such relief

Led me to an expanding retreat

Not only based on what I did eat

Grief can make me feel out of my head

And often want to take to my bed

Especially when I’ve been very well fed

Of good food, company and scenery

There’s a lot to be said

I had large portions of all on this treat

Where lots of interesting folk, I did meet

We talked, we listened & we laughed a lot

There was so much variety in the pot

We all have many stories to tell

And when we’re open to hearing, we really gel

When we’re willing to learn from each other

There’s much that makes us like sister and brother

We all share in this human spirit

With its up and downs, it requires real grit

More so for the lessons that are seriously shit

But offer deep learning when approached with wit

The learning literally never stops

And calls me now to change my socks

To walk in new ways and shoes

So to my great God, stay entirely true

Thank you God

For making me odd

I own all that I am

Cos I trust in your plan

Let’s get this party started ….

The holy sabbath

The holy sabbath

This morning as I hung out with Jesus, I was able to submit enough to seek what He wants to say over what I want to hear! And Jesus does not disappoint. Which is not to say he does not allow experiences that disappoint!  Do not confuse the two!

I was reading about the Israelites spending forty years in the dessert – what a long time. I’m grateful I only spent thirty years in the pre-knowing Jesus desert. Anyway, God used the daily provision of manna (grub), to teach the Israelites to trust Him as provider. He told them to obey his command to take only enough manna for each day and to trust that God would provide enough for every day thereafter.

Of course, human beings were just as wilful, doubting and disobedient back then as we are today. Subsequently, some of them stored up more than a days’ worth of manna, just in case God failed to deliver on his promise of provision. Consequently, when the non-trusting took more than a days’ worth, the excess went off and stank. God was serious about providing enough for each day and no more. He was also serious about commanding them to trust him enough to believe his promises. (He’s the same God today!)

The exception to this daily provision of manna was on a Saturday. God promised to deliver two days’ worth of food every Saturday to provide enough for Sunday too. This was done to establish God’s principle of rest via taking a weekly sabbath/rest day. And when the Israelites followed these instructions, the excess taken on Saturday did not go off. It remained fresh for Sunday. God’s words are true and he delivers on his promises. (Not just back then!)

God was showing his faithful, trustworthy character as a God who provides what we need, to sustain us for the day ahead. God still provides for our daily spiritual, physical and psychological needs, when we remember to ask him. And, like the Israelites, we often doubt him, take things into our own hands and treat him as if his ways are like ours. In other words, we sometimes apply the, ‘if you want a job doing properly’, motto to him. If only we could learn to trust him and his timing, all the time and especially in the super shit looking times. Sigh.

Anyway, I was struck by God’s command to REST in this scripture.

This is not, nor has ever been an optional extra, reserved for the indulgent. It is an essential principle for healthy, God led living. And it is considered a break of his commands to fail to apply it in practice. Gulp.

The sabbath does not have to be on a Sunday. It does have to be one day a week. While the sabbath and rest are not new concepts, they are more significant than ever in these increasingly rest-less times we live in. Which we are worse off for.

Now is the time to re-establish this Godly principle, for this exists for our own health, protection and longevity.

We neglect it to our detriment.

So, what is rest?

Rest is resisting asking anything of our minds, hearts or body’s. Stopping. Refusing to make demands on ourselves or accept demands from others. Of course, this requires a more creative response to those responsible for little people along with their never-ending demands! We all have different challenges and blessings and can seek God for how to work with these. Even then there will always be the exception where something must be done on a sabbath day. But the point is, the exception is supposed to remain the exception, not become the norm.

What might rest look like?

Rest is not necessarily a nap. While a nap is usually a restful, non-negotiable part of my day, this is a complete shutdown of the system. This certainly refreshes and reboots the system, for some of us. We are all different. And the research on the benefits of naps is conflicting at best.

But rest is something we benefit from including within our waking moments. Or rather it is a call/command and invitation to include it for our own benefit.

This requires sufficient self-knowledge to recognise and implement what is restful for us. Again, as we are all different, what works for me, may not work for you.

For me, my favourite form of rest is what I call ‘wall gazing’ time. I literally get comfortable, preferably horizontal, or at least sat with my legs up, and I gaze in to space. Or out the window at nature, or out to sea. The point for me is that I am not actively asking my mind or body to do anything. I am letting my body be still and my mind wander wherever it wants to go.

My mind typically likes to go through the events of the day or to envision dreams for the future. Or to think about the humongous gap between what us Christians say we believe about God and what our lives reveal us to really believe! And more importantly asking God to show me to how to live more like I know that he means what he says. (unlike most of us humans!)

I let my mind roam free and play spontaneously and creatively. I love indulging in wall gazing time. And I rarely prioritise/permit myself to do it!!  Feel free to judge! I don’t profess to be perfect! But I am committed to learning how to do things better. And to being taught by the most phenomenal teacher, who just happens to be available and calling us all.

As someone who needs to process on an extremely deep level due to the depth of my feelings and the breadth of my thoughts, this time is essential REST that allows unconscious processing to occur. And I need to practice more of it.

Rest could also look like laying down listening to music, meditating on the lyrics or simply feeling it.

Or it could be laying down with the cat snuggled on to me with his loud purr-o-metre reverberating through my system.

And sometimes, it is sitting in the sauna, jacuzzi or steam room. I love being warm, I love being in water and when in either of these places, with nothing to physically do, I stop and rest! This offers an embodied reminder of how wonderful it feels to be still.

Rest really is the best. It replenishes our supplies for whatever the day requires of us. It is not only a weekly requirement in the form of a sabbath day. But something we each need varying amounts of every day.

Grief reminds me that I need more rest than usual and I haven’t been having it. God’s perfect timing means I now have a good portion of it stretching out ahead of me.

The question remains … along with a reminder from a prayer partner, will I allow myself to practice this REST malarkey as much as I need it?

Perhaps, as God is the one reminding me of the importance of it, I’ll ask his help to apply it! I often observe how it feels like God answers my prayers for others more than me (so unfair!). Yet I know the ‘help me implement rest beyond and including the sabbath’ prayer, is one that he’ll be all over!

And the best time to practice this rest-fest is NOW … the sofa is calling and the window needs gazing out of …

Let’s talk curtains, by Jesus Christ and Jo Loach!

Let’s talk curtains

It’s Easter Saturday … this offers the stillness, silence and space that so many of us struggle with. During our life span, we will often find ourselves in our own Easter Saturday, no longer where we were, but not yet where we will be. It can be hard on Saturday to trust that Monday will come. Easter offers us an annual reminder in recognition of our tendency for spiritual amnesia, about what we need to remember most.

This morning I was thinking about all of this. I love the magic of the early mornings, and this morning was no exception. If I sleep through until 5.30am, I take this as a win. My overactive mind has always interfered with my body’s need for sleep.

Anyway, when I went downstairs and wondered into my conservatory, I was greeted by the most musical, magical sound of birdsong. It doesn’t matter how many times I hear this or witness all things Spring, they still make my heart leap for joy. These are the moments that set me up for a day of seeing all things through the lens of my relationship with Jesus Christ. How grateful I am to have eyes that see and ears that hear – when I remember to look and listen!

The first few hours of my day are dedicated to hanging out with Jesus because he feeds me on a way deeper level than my muesli does. He gives me wisdom, insight, encouragement, comfort, strength and whatever else he knows I’ll need for the day. Love is the non-negotiable most important ingredient for any day. And He’s a generous God who always gives more than we need so there’s enough to share with others.

As I read my UCB daily devotional, I was struck by the word ‘curtains’. Obviously as it’s Easter Saturday, the reading is about what Jesus came to do – to become the connector between our flawed selves and our perfect God. This isn’t new news for any Christian, but our God is not a dead or dry God. He offers us new, fresh, living ways to see and share his life, death, words, ways and wisdom every day, when we seek him.

Each morning, I look back and thank God for all the blessings I noticed from the previous day. And I ask him to speak to me in preparation for the day he knows I will have. As a God of his word, who’s ways are not our ways, he does what he says he will. Always and without exception.

As soon as I clocked the word ‘curtains’ in my reading, I remembered a conversation from earlier this week. It was about the impending funeral to celebrate the life of the one who died unexpectedly. The question was asked whether we wanted the ‘curtains’ to be closed at the end of the service. This typically symbolises the final curtain call of life as one moves beyond this world to the next. The answer was a resounding ‘no’ from us all. Too visual, too final, too painful.

I sat with this and sought God’s insight. I considered how God uses the torn curtains to symbolise the end of Jesus’s life in human form. While what Jesus came to do was finished, this was not the end of his life or his reign. It was the beginning of Jesus taking up his life through the hearts, minds, bodies, words and ways of us, his flawed human but still-used-by-God, people. Upon giving our hearts to Jesus, he begins to reign within them in a way that blesses and helps us through all the trouble we’re told we’ll have. And he gives enough to sustain us and share with others, to show something of who God is. 

For Jesus, the curtains represented his physical death, but the start of his life through our physical bodies and spirits. That’s you, me and us. The curtains represented a boundary between us and God. Hence the curtains splitting in two removed this leaving us free to be with God anytime we want to. We can be as connected to him as we want, for he has gifted us the free will to choose.

I’m learning to have God on an intravenous drip because whenever I try life my way instead of his, I get myself in an almighty mess. How grateful I am that God is almighty enough, gracious and merciful enough, to always welcome me back with open arms.

For us, curtains symbolise the end of our life in these human body’s. It doesn’t end there though, as Jesus calls us to eternity with him, in brand spanking new bodies.  And in a place where there is no more tears or suffering – wow.

We live in a world, in a time full of suffering. Much of which is unnecessarily driven by the human ego and its need for power, at the cost of human life. No wonder Jacinda Ardern, former prime minister of NZ, was vilified by the patriarch for prioritising human life in NZ during Covid. If only men and women could acknowledge, celebrate and collaborate with each other to utilise our respective gifts and perspectives. I’ll pray but I won’t hold my breath on this front. Dinosaurs are far from an extinct species and remain one which endangers life.

But back to the point.

The curtains that split when Jesus died, removed all separation between us and God Almighty, FOREVER. This means that no matter what trouble our ‘Good Friday’ seasons bring, nor how long before our Easter Monday comes, Jesus is with and for us. In this life and beyond.

I love to worship God through song and as I sang/screeched along to the lyrics of a song this morning, I was particularly struck by the truth of these words.

“Where is God in all of this?”

This is often the cry of the human heart when life or death happens in a way that makes our hearts hurt, over what our minds are unable to comprehend. I imagine it is the cry of many a human heart right now, the world over, with all that is happening.

Jesus promised us trouble, but he also encouraged us to ‘take heart’, because he has overcome. He overcame the cross to connect us to the Father forever, if we choose to accept this ultimate invitation from the giver of life. And this father, gives us everything we could possibly need to navigate the toughest, most heart breaking of times. He gives comfort, calm, peace and the love of good people. None of which can be bought. Not even from Amazon. And the best bit of all, the life and death of Jesus that invites us to experience the fullest version of life, the one where he lives in and through us, is FREE!!! Honestly! I know it sounds too good to be true, but I’ve got over twenty years lived experience of testing this! And I can testify that this promise is truer than true! As well as being an offer with no expiry date, until the day we die.

Now that’s what I call good news.

Oh yes, and because God knows how easily I become distracted, he often confirms what he wants me to write about, at least three times. This typically succeeds in getting and securing my attention. He knows I love the number three for its holy and magical qualities! So, just to be sure this morning, I had a notification come up on my FB market page. It had a picture of a pair of red curtains that I had advertised for sale, with the rather original title, ‘Curtains’! I burst out laughing! I love Jesus and the way he works, plays and rests with me! Especially when I let him drive and I stop being such a front seat driver.

“Ok, Jesus, I hear you, I’ll get up and write this piece for you – what a privilege during this annual reminder of what an amazing God you are, to write in a way that points to you!”

I’m always confused when Christians look at me like I’m mad, deluded or both when I share what God has said to me. Of course, I am fallible and I can and do get things wrong at times. But I’ve learned to accept that if I do my best to share what God asks me to share, it’s between God and others to test its truth. And this free’s me to stop staying silent just because my critics remain committed to misunderstanding me and underestimating God!

I will not be silenced, and I will speak on God’s behalf – please do test what I say for yourself.

Happy celebrating and recognising the call of Jesus weekend, one and all. 

What an awesome God we all have.

Always trust that your Monday WILL come. No matter how long the weekend turns out to be, nor where it delivers you to.

And if you are wondering what this messed up world is all about and seeking something of real meaning, open your heart to the call of the giver of life this Easter. Please don’t let us, God’s imperfect people, put you off from God’s perfect-ness. The Church continues to earn her poor reputation in many ways. But she also does a lot of good, so please don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.

And please be assured that a relationship with God is separate to the Church, which remains full of flawed people like me. However, there are a growing breed of us, God’s people, who are working hard, despite the internal resistance, to lift the carpet. The Church is no different to the average family in that much of the mess and pain gets swept under the ceiling tickling carpets. As if somehow this pleases God, rather than green lighting the one who works oh-so-subtly against God.

But God is different in that he calls us to let him help us deal with what’s under the carpet, not live in fear of it. Or worse still, allow it to grow and fester by pretending its not there. God is not fooled! Neither does he call us to be! He really does call us to be free.

Ps in answer to the question of, ‘where is Jesus in this?’

 As the lyrics say,

“He’s right here, where he’s always been”.

Halleluyah!

PPS give me a shout if you want these freshly washed red curtains! Dear Jesus, please help me find the buggers …

Unexpected Death

Nothing really prepares us for death.

But it remains more shocking when we’re not expecting it. In a way I guess we should all be expecting death, given it’s an inevitable and unavoidable part of life for every one of us. But we don’t usually expect death. Perhaps we are more mindful the older we get and the more loved ones we witness going on without us. But generally, death is too concrete a concept to be comprehensible to our human brains.

When death takes one of our own, our world ceases to exist in the way we’ve always known it. Time stops while we enter a limbo bubble, beyond the realms of ordinary time or daily living. Nothing seems real except that the lifeline of one has ended and ours has changed irreversibly.

The shock of sudden death sends waves of anaesthetic through our systems to soothe us until we can begin to absorb the hard-to-absorb. My system shook and cried. Then it became still and silent before succumbing to sleep. Only after sleep did the waves of shock accompanied by sadness arise again.

How can someone be here one minute and gone the next? Why don’t we get notice it’s coming?!

We know intellectually when someone has ceased to be here in bodily form, but we cannot digest this in one sitting. It’s too hard, too big, too final and too life changing, to those who remain alive.

The questions start,

“What if …”

“If only …”

“Why didn’t I …”

And none of these have answers.

Then the ‘should’ brigade step in.

“Should I do this … “

“Should I do that …”

“Should I not do this or that …”

But when it comes to the process of grief, there is

NO …

  • rule book
  • right or wrong
  • comparisons
  • two griefs the same

There is only the ongoing question of;

What do I need right now?

On the understanding that this is ever changing and sometimes we learn what we need by experiencing what we don’t. For me, crowds and noise are an absolute no, as my tolerance is the first thing to go and my irritation is the first thing to rise.

And top of the DO NOT NEED pile are:

DO NOT

  • stop praying … God wants to help us with death as well as life
  • push self to do what can be put down and left undone
  • pretend to be ok when not
  • claim not to need support when we do
  • self-pressure/self-recrimination
  • anything remotely resembling the stiff upper lip bs

In contrast, top of the DO NEED pile are:

  • time / space
  • tissues, plenty of
  • water, lots – to drink and if manageable, shower in, but see above re not pressuring!
  • Industrial strength deodorant (see above/is this just a peri thing?)
  • Food to stop the system being physically stressed when it’s already psychologically stressed, even easy grabs like toast.
  • Sleep whenever you can grab it
  • Big scissors to cut yourself some serious slack
  • Reminder not to put finance before health in work v time out – ongoing assessment of capacity
  • Support from those who have experienced grief
  • Self-compassion; large portions of
  • Time alarms for anything significant while time awareness is suspended
  • Friends that understand you don’t want to hear about their sister’s, uncles, neighbours’ dogs, fleas.
  • Reminder that all thoughts and feelings are just that – they come, they go, accept or fight them – while reminding yourself you don’t have energy to spare
  • Accept you’re going to feel emotionally and mentally fatigued while your body works to support the process of healing; don’t push to do unnecessary work during this time
  • It’s a process; anything that pretends to be a short cut will turn into a long cut
  • Remember grief has its own timeline and it does not end; it changes as we integrate the love for the person (and any other feelings) with the loss of them
  • It’s your grief, your body, heart, mind and spirit. Only you know what you feel and what you need – go with that. If anyone wants to judge, in the words of Mel Robbins, ‘let them’!

And a note for my fellow Christians, DON’T EVER SAY,

“Oh but they’re with Jesus now”,

Especially not while wearing a huge smile.

At least not unless you want the ‘most insensitive response’ award. If Jesus cried over the death of a man he knew he was going to resurrect, I’m pretty damn sure it’s ok for us to cry over those who die and will not be resurrected.

Grief reminds us to stop.

To notice what is and what is not important. To constantly take a minute to ask,

“Does this really matter right now, if at all?”

For me, when I am writing, I can find my way through anything, including the unexpected dying of another.

And, even in the heartache of grief, there are gifts of gold. For what is more important than the gift of one another, to walk through life and death with. We need not walk alone.

Thank you God for gifting me those who walk with me, hug me, message me, call me, feed me, water me, pray with and for me and show me, I am not alone.