Love - Life is calling

Love and anger

Whilst these two make an unlikely partnership, I find them both equally fascinating. As I do the relationship between them.

They are universal emotions that we all experience to more or lesser degrees. Hopefully more of the love than the anger but either way, they are two of the most powerful and enlivening emotions.

I’ve been thinking about them more closely recently as I facilitated a teaching on anger a few weeks ago and I’ll be teaching on love, this weekend.

As such, I’ve been paying more attention to both than usual.

It has reminded me that what I regularly see through my work is how the human difficulty in acknowledging let alone tolerating, valuing or understanding anger, can serve as a barrier to the flow of love.

I’ve seen this again and again.

The person who cannot even speak to another such is their suppressed anger towards them. Yet after allowing said anger to be felt, expressed and released in a healthy, contained way, they realise that their ability to see, speak and listen to said person has been restored!

Now, I’m not suggesting that deeply entrenched, complicated matters can be so simplistic but I am saying that unacknowledged, unprocessed, un dealt with anger does block love.

This applies whether it is anger to another, anger to the self or even anger to God.

Whilst anger is a healthy and important emotion that points to where our boundaries have been broken, an injustice has been experienced or an unmet need requires a response, if we don’t acknowledge this honestly, it will seep out indirectly as well as harming us to hold it within.

Anger is a such a necessary emotion but if we hold on to it, it prevents us from fully loving the one it is felt towards, be it, us, another or God.

It blocks love.

It is as if you cannot have love and anger travelling down the same heart lines at the same time. We can feel love and we can feel anger but we cannot have both flowing through our hearts together. Like oil and water, they are not compatible. They cannot mix.

And if we fail to deal with and release our anger in appropriate ways, it acts as a barrier to the flow of love.

Yet when we examine, explore and expunge our anger, the heart becomes free once more for love to flow forth. The degree to which the love flows is directly linked to the degree to which we deal with all those horrible love blocking feelings, of which anger is the most powerful.

And if love is the most precious thing any of us can ever receive or give, doesn’t that make anger, as its biggest threat, worthy of our acknowledgement and attention?

I was recently reminded of the power of anger to block love.

An ongoing, minor, yet irritating situation has evoked a strong sense of injustice and anger within me. The effect of which was a total block of love and an uprising of angry words that I wasn’t proud to be spitting out. I was experiencing how powerfully anger can arise, wiping out any kind of loving thoughts or actions in the process. Whilst I had to deal with what was triggered within me, it was a timely reminder that whilst holding on to that anger, I could not also house love.

I needed to make a choice.

Hold on to what I felt to be justified anger, causing myself to behave in a way even I disliked and was taken aback by, or actually acknowledge it, work through it and make a choice to let it go.

What I couldn’t do, was pretend it wasn’t there and fill up with, let alone share, love!

Whilst the anger had a hold, the love couldn’t get a look in!

And whilst I’m all too aware of the unavoidable experience of and necessity for anger, I have no desire to hold on to this at the cost of losing that flow of love.

I’ve tasted both and I know which I prefer!

It’s just that sometimes I need reminding that I have a choice.

Otherwise I fall in to the trap of unthinkingly reacting badly to what I experience to be inconsiderate behaviour from another. Whilst I’m not willing to be anyone’s doormat, I can’t respect myself if I use an annoying experience of another to excuse my own poor response. And of course responding badly fuels and invites more of the same.

And I guess that’s the thing, whilst all kinds of stuff, serious and inconsequential will come at us in life, we get only to choose how we will respond.

Will we add more anger and horribleness in to anger inducing situations or will we acknowledge our honest emotions, let them go, be filled with love once more that we can send that back in whatever way is appropriate whether actions, or prayers from a distance.

My first reaction in this recent situation wasn’t one I’m proud of. But then God did that thing He does. He reminded me that I was preparing a teaching on love and I might like to reflect on how loving my own behaviour was!

I kind of love and hate that He does that! Because as uncomfortable as it is to admit to my own poor behaviour, it is also liberating to own, acknowledge and choose how to deal with it. In doing so, I can choose not to allow it to fester to my detriment and not to continue the cycle.

Anger requires dealing with promptly.

Life is too short to hold on to anything that blocks love.

Mother’s Day

This is a day that can bring such joy and such sorrow.

As we approach it, I am able to recognise the change in my grief for the special lady who was very much a mother to me over an eight year period.

Whilst the first anniversary of her death was only a few short months ago, I am aware that something has shifted in my grief.

It was during my time in New Zealand whilst having a day on my own at the beach that I sensed her presence afresh.

I could see her big blue eyes smiling mischievously at me and remember her enthusiasm as she encouraged me with all that I do. I recalled how utterly thrilled she was for me when I stepped out in new areas to trial things that I am passionate about. I remembered how she would tell me with such excitement when she had heard something linked to the work I do. I could feel the force of her belief in me when she encouraged me to keep going and to keep trying new things.

In essence, I could experience her mighty love for me afresh.

I was reminded of the way she was with me; she saw me; good and bad, she gently manoeuvred around me when I was spiky, she walked with me through the worst years of my healing, loving me even when she didn’t understand, she bounced and she beamed when she saw me step out in meaningful areas and overall, she simply saw me, when others didn’t.

I thought back to how she was just there. When I needed to talk or to pray, to rant or rejoice, she was there at the end of the phone always ready to hear and to share in what I had to say.

She was there for me.

And she loved me.

In spite of myself.

She gave me the gift of unconditional love.

What greater gift is there?

And whilst writing these words brings fresh tears to my eyes, the grief has changed. When I feel the deep sadness at her physical absence, I no longer feel like I am in a well of grief that I cannot imagine ever finding my way through or out.

Instead, now when I cry, I see her beautiful smiling face and the love in her eyes and I know that she is telling me not only that I am doing ok and I am going to be ok, but also that I am going to continue finding my way to do all the things I believe in.

It is as if she is still here albeit in a different way as her love for me continues to live on within me, encouraging me every step of the way and spurring me on to keep stepping up and speaking out for all that I believe in.

I no longer feel lost in the pain.

I feel loved and supported by her through it and beyond.

In her last days of lucidity, she looked me in the eyes and told me, ‘Jo, you are going to do great things’.

Even in her last days she was still encouraging and loving all of us around her. In the face of her death, she continued to be as she was in her life; scattering her seeds of love and of life.

What a woman.

What a gift to me.

Her belief in me knew no bounds and though I would much rather she were still here in person, I now sense her presence, her comfort, her enthusiasm, her laughter, her playfulness, her kindness, her patience, her excitement, her belief in me and most of all, her love for me, still living within me, still encouraging me every step of the way.

Wow!

And, it wasn’t that she wasn’t with me last year, it was just that I was in too much pain over her physical death, to be able to access the internal wellspring of love that she had fed in to me over the years.

But now, whilst the tears still come, they also bring a smile about who she was and who she continues to be, to me.

I loved her and even more amazingly, she loved me!

A gift so generous and so profound that now it is my turn to pass that gift on to as many as I can in my lifetime. Whilst acknowledging that I will continue to mess up along the way! But I hope I will continue to learn and to apply all that I can about what it really is to love.

Is there more precious a gift than that of a mother’s love?

Or more painful a loss than absence of it?

This mother’s day, whilst I still mourn her absence, I will also rejoice in her ongoing love, presence and influence within my mind, heart, soul and life.

I will also rejoice in a recent meeting with my own mother following a long period of estrangement.

Mother’s day evokes all manner of emotions for us all. And all of these are worthy of our attention, compassion and love.

Be kind to yourself this Mother’s Day, whatever it evokes for you.

And where possible, celebrate those who have shown you a mother’s love, whether biological or otherwise, whether still with us or having gone on ahead.

The need to be loved.

This theme has been bang on my radar of late.

As I prepare a teaching on the call to be loved by God, I notice more and more that at the root of most of our internal struggles is a lack of love, or even a perceived lack of love.

What I mean is that the need to be loved in words and actions is the most fundamental human need in existence.

This is true for every single one of us irrespective of gender, age, faith, class, education, bank balance or anything else.

It is our experience of being loved that shapes our belief about whether we are loveable. And our belief about our love-ability affects how much of ourselves we offer to others and to life itself.

As children we watch the adults around us to learn about love. We notice whether our family tells us in words that they love us or whether they demonstrate their love with physical affection; hugs or kisses.

We watch and we internalise messages about what this says about our own love-ability.

We do not realise as children that the way in which our parents or others love us is usually a reflection of how they have been loved as opposed to a reflection of our love-ability.

All too often I hear of families where children as young as six are told they are too old for hugs and kisses. As if the need for love is not legitimate or life-long.

But the truth is that we all need to be loved throughout our lives.

We need to know that there are people around us who know us well enough to see our flaws but who love us regardless. We need people who don’t ask us to pretend or hide parts of ourselves but who see and love us as we are.

This need to be loved is a basic but critical human need.

When it is not met well enough, it can leave us unable or unwilling to offer our most authentic selves or gifts to the world around us.

This is because it is love that gives us the agency to take the necessary risks to become who we are capable of becoming.

It is love that stops us from settling for or becoming stuck within a life that does not reflect our true nature or potential.

It is love that enables us to live fully.

None amongst us can choose the family we are born in to or whether they have worked through their generational issues enough to be able to love in a healthy way with words and actions.

But, every single one of us whether our experience of love through family or the world at large, has been good, bad or indifferent is being called to be loved by the God who loves us all with a love like no other. He is the only perfect parent in existence and He seeks to love all of us; His children.

His is a love that see’s and knows every thought, feeling or action we have ever had or ever will yet He continues to love us in to the best versions of ourselves.

His love propels us in to pursuing all that we are able to be and to give to this thing called life.

It is a love that sets us free.

Who doesn’t yearn for that kind of love.

The Greatest Gift …

These past few weeks have been hard with a capital HA. Yet through them, I have been reminded of the greatest gift any of us can ever receive.

To clarify, I am not talking about stuff with a fancy brand name or an extortionate price tag.

Or even of the outstanding but ever changing beauty of creation.

Whilst I don’t particularly like Autumn or Winter (with Christmas being the exception), I do so love the stunning array of amber tones that we are fleetingly treated to as we transition between the two seasons.

But what I am talking about is the great gift of friendship.

As in real friendship.

Let me explain.

I am referring to those rare and precious individuals with whom we can be exactly who and how we are. The good, the bad and the best not shared in public! The friends with whom censoring is not required, fear of judgment is absent and the knowledge that we are loved is secure.

Within these friendships we can be authentic, real, vulnerable and honest, safe in the knowledge that our baggage, pain and mess will not be treated as a source of gossip but instead respected for the privilege that it is to be shared with another.

This gift is quite simply, worth more than gold.

For these friends offer us mask free time.

They see us.

They get us.

They love us.

They reach us.

Ultimately, they save us from the desolation of being alone.

A priceless gift.

One that no amount of money can ever buy.

In my experience such people are few and far between and it has taken me many years to sift out those who are from those who are not.

In doing so I now feel incredibly privileged to have reached a place where I have several of these very special people in my life.

They have become, quite simply, my family.

Such a precious, precious gift.

The challenge of course, is to find the time and space to actually be with each other. To actually sit in one another’s company to share in and celebrate the victories, to cry and commiserate on the losses and to rant and rage about the injustices.

There is nothing greater than to spend time in the presence of another where both can be seen and valued just as they are. A friendship based on mutuality. One that understands that sometimes I am in a good place and you are not, sometimes you are and I am not, sometimes we both are and sometimes we both are not. Yet always, there is the freedom to be just as we are.

No pretence.

No hiding.

No masks.

Just raw, honest, messy and beautiful, reality.

A reality that is shared.

It is my experience that through these friendships, any kind of pain can be borne.

These friendships are not a given. They don’t just happen. They are something that when found, must be nurtured, protected, invested in and valued.

Nothing can compare.

In our fast paced, achievement and materialism obsessed culture, it is often time for these relationships that suffers. Subsequently, the increased sense of aloneness adversely impacts our individual and collective mental health.

We must learn to recognise that the gift of time spent with those who truly see us and are seen by us, is one of the greatest gifts we can ever give or receive.

It is sacred.

And, I believe, a gift from God Himself.

For, it is true that only God can be God, but it is equally true that we experience Him and His love through the love of our fellow humans.

I was listening to a sermon just last week on what it is to ‘care for one another’. Not superficially. But in the real sense of actually being there for each other not just for the good times but for all times. And a term was introduced which I had not heard before.

It was … ‘co-pain’.

A French word for one who bears our pain with us.

I love that. It’s the greatest gift we can offer another, to be with them in their pain. Not try to fix it, or to take responsibility for it, thus disempowering them, or to speak false platitudes about it, but just to be with them in it. To offer your presence, your attention, your care, your very you-ness.

What a gift.

It is the most important thing we can recognise or invest in to sustain any kind of quality of life. For without an emotional connection to others, something in us dies. We need the spark of the connection to enliven and sustain us, for we live and learn, hurt and heal within relationship.

I was asked recently what it is that humans want most. As an off the cuff reply, I heard myself respond, ‘to be seen, known and loved as we are’.

Isn’t that a universal human longing?

Isn’t it from a place of being loved, that the desire to be all that we can be, flows out from us in to the world around us?

As I look back upon this year, I see that I have continually found myself deep in the wells of grief for the loss of the person who saw me and gave me a mother’s love. At times, it felt like I would never find my way back up or out of the grief.

Yet again and again, these special individuals have met me in that place and helped me to climb back out on the steps of their love.

Wow!

I am immensely grateful for each and every one of them and I make a point of telling them so. I will also endeavour to continue making time and space to be with them.

So, whilst it is true that I have lost the love of a mother this year and that the pain of that continues, it is equally true that I have gained a whole new awareness of the love of those friends who are true sisters.

What richer gift could I realise, receive or give, as we approach Christmas.

A Father For All …

Father’s Day is upon us again.

But what exactly does the term Father mean?

Is it the man biologically responsible for providing the necessary ingredient?

Or the man/men who actually do life with you?

On the understanding that they are not always one and the same.

Perhaps they are both.

Over the years I’ve redefined my understanding of the term ‘father’ numerous times. Yet it does not remain static. It continues to change, evolve and grow.

Especially since encountering the Father of all Father’s; God Almighty Himself.

As I look back to my pre-knowing-God days I remember one of my early experiences of what felt like a gift from God the Father.

It was many, many, many years ago back in the days when I was still caught in the life destroying grip of alcoholism. It was a Saturday morning in the summer back when I lived next door to my sister. We shared a lawn mower and on this particular morning, accompanied by a monster sized hangover and aided by a large pig butty, I still found myself unable to face the task of tackling my lawn. My sister did hers and I sat and watched wondering how I was going to muster the motivation to do mine.

Anyway, as I sat wishing that my lawn would cut itself, there was a knock at my sister’s door. When she failed to return promptly from answering it my curiosity got the better of me and I dragged myself up and round to her front door to have a nose.

I was met by the sight of two young Mormon men dressed in suits enquiring as to whether there was anything they could do for my sister. Ding. Having recognised what looked to be an amazing opportunity, the words, ‘oh yes, you can mow my lawn for me’ were out of my mouth before I could gather any sense of decorum or English reserve. (Thank God).

These guys smiled enthusiastically, whipped off their jackets and asked to get stuck in. I was of course only too delighted to get them started!

Once they’d mowed my back lawn they asked if there was anything else they could do, to which I kindly replied, ‘well, if you’re going to do a job, you may as well do it properly and do the front as well’, thinking they would tell me where to go. But no, they were genuinely keen to oblige.

By this point I was totally amazed and humbled by their attitude. So much so that I made us all some lunch and then these young guys talked about their family back home in the USA and showed us pictures of them. It was a thoroughly enjoyable affair!

Now, to clarify, I don’t really know what a Mormon is or what any of the various denominations are. Neither do I really care. Maybe I should but all that is important to me is that there is one God and He loves and wants to be in relationship with us all.

Anyway, after this experience, I remarked to my sister, ‘you see, there really must be a God’, to which she replied, ‘typical that would happen to you and you’d get out of moving your lawn’!!! (I have a concrete lawn these days!)

But for me, this was an experience I would look back upon after officially meeting God personally a few years later whilst living in NZ. I could see that God is indeed a Father of such love and such grace. I had a totally self-inflicted hangover that Saturday morning and I certainly did not deserve for anyone to come along and do my chores for me and yet these young men did so with such genuine joy that it caused me to stop and think about what kind of a God could cause a person to do something so selfless and to seemingly get such pleasure from doing so.

I realise now that this experience that was so undeserved had God written all over it. And for that I was grateful then and I’m grateful now, for the numerous ways that God reveals Himself. Usually I suspect without us even noticing much less thanking Him. (Often cos we’re too busy blaming him for something or other).

This was just a great example of the Father’s love. We don’t deserve Him yet He pursues, loves and helps us regardless.

Which is not to say that He doesn’t also allow us to feel the consequences of our actions. Or even to allow terrible things to happen to us. But His grace, love and help remain on offer to help us through no matter what.

As I reflect upon this Father’s Day, I realise that since meeting God the Father, I’ve been fortunate enough to experience other men who have shown me a similar Fatherly love and grace. And whilst each of these key men have been vastly different, they have each shown me that grace and love cannot be separated. (A bit like tea and cake).

These men have helped me with practical stuff, prayed for me when I’ve needed it (read always!), hugged me when I’ve cried and celebrated with me when things have gone well. They are the father’s that are there for me and do life with me. They each show me something of the Father’s heart. And I am eternally grateful to them all. (Special thanks to the long suffering Johnboy!).

But anyway, back to this Father’s day.

It’s not an easy day for many people for all manner of reasons. And if it is a day that brings pain, it’s important to acknowledge that. Not sweep it under the carpet, deny or dismiss it, belittle or stiff upper lip it back in to the body to come out later as illness. It just needs to be recognised, respected and responded to with love and compassion. Because that is the only way that we can continue to live with our hearts open. And if they’re not open, are we really living?

At the same time, it is important to acknowledge that whatever experiences each of us have had or failed to have from our own father’s, there is a Father who is available to us all. One that is worthy to be celebrated and praised this Father’s Day.

He probably will have bought men to show you about a father’s love even if those men or that man is not biologically connected to you. But whether He has or whether you have noticed or recognised this or not, God Himself will be reaching out to you this Father’s day.

Whether you know or believe in Him, he knows and believes in each and every one of us. He longs to father us all. To be in relationship with us. To have us spend time with Him, to recognise His hand and the many ways and people through whom He reaches out to us. To know His voice and to hear what He wants to speak in to our lives to encourage and help us to navigate our way through all the twists and turns. To know that no matter how things feel, we are never alone for He is always with and for us, patiently waiting for us to acknowledge and call upon Him. To love us with such grace and compassion in spite of ourselves. To be available and interested 24/7. To know us so intimately as to always know what and who we need. To strengthen and comfort us along the way that we can keep going even when things are super tough and we feel like giving up. To welcome and comfort us when we’ve gone off the rails but then realise that He still awaits our return with open embrace.

Ultimately this Father loves us with a love like no other. One that never gives up, abandons, abuses, neglects, forgets, ignores or rejects. Even when we do that to Him.

There are truly none like Him.

And … He doesn’t get ill or die on us.

Do you know this ultimate Father?

Maybe this Father’s Day it is time to recognise the Father’s call in to relationship with Him.

For me, this Father’s Day I will be praising and thanking my God and Father for never giving up on me, for pursuing me relentlessly even though I wouldn’t acknowledge Him until I was on the other side of the world, and for loving me through the most painful times and my most horrible behaviours. Ultimately, for loving all of me; the good, the bad and the really ugly. And I’ll be thanking Him for the men in my life who represent Him to me. As well as praying for those who don’t!

And throughout the year in between this Father’s Day and the next, whenever I’m having a right old crappy time, I’ll try to remind myself ‘Jo, do you remember who your Father is?!’.

Should I forget, I’m fortunate enough to have friend’s that remind me.

I don’t know what your experience of or as a father is.

But I know that there is a Father who longs to be in relationship with EVERY SINGLE one of his children.

Will you accept His invitation this Father’s Day?

The Grief Wave …

Grief isn’t a nice, tidy, or by any means short process that comes with any kind of manual or end date.

Nor is it something we can control.

It is unique and unpredictable.

But, over time we can learn to recognise and surrender to it rather than resist and prolong it. Not that it ever ends but more that the loss becomes integrated and the absence adjusted to, even when it still hurts.

Ultimately we have to learn to trust the grieving process.

Because when that fresh wave of grief hits, it hits.

You know about it.

There can be no denial of its arrival.

At least not for long.

In fact, we’d do well to notice it coming.

I saw mine on the horizon. Or rather I felt it. The tears that came at inappropriate moments. The stuffing them back down with sugar or salt laden rubbish, the extended and more frequent need for an afternoon nap, the struggle to smile in the presence of so much stifled sadness.

The signs were all there.

I simply refused to read them.

It took a meeting with my best friend and fellow psychotherapist to point out the unwanted obvious.

This was another wave of grief.

I’d come out of the fog of the first few months and people had commented on how much better I looked. I felt better too.

So when the grief began to hit again, I tried to resist it by carrying on as ‘normal’. I liked feeling ‘better’. And I didn’t want to feel sad again. I’ve already had too much sadness for one lifetime.

I resisted, denied, refused and fought this new wave of grief.

I didn’t want it to take me over.

I wasn’t trusting it to do its work of transformation or to deliver me to where I need to be.

All this despite knowing that something as important as the process of grief cannot be ignored. At least not for any real length of time before your body starts protesting via the language of illness. For some, even hospitalisation.

But, like most humans, I also like to buy in to all those palatable ideas about how having the right thoughts, beliefs, or pills, means we don’t have to be ‘so weak’ (read human) as to experience unwanted feelings. I get it. I want this to be true as much as the next person. And if swallowing these ideas came without the consequences it would certainly be a lot easier and less painful.

And so I allowed myself to indulge in a little delusion, despite my training, despite my knowledge, despite the reality that stifled sadness (or any other unwanted emotion) is a great stealer of smiles and obstructer of the internal well of joy.

I know this stuff but like most humans I still sometimes opt for the comfort of denial. No matter how shallow or short lived.

As a friend of mine says, denial is a very long river.

And for a while, I just wanted to swim in it. I didn’t want to get out to face much less engage with the reality that ‘the only cure for grief, is grieving’. (I nicked that expression off some one else but can’t remember who – possibly Kubler Ross).

But anyway …

Grief cannot be fast tracked, thought or prayed away.

Grief has to be grieved.

No quick fix.

No short cut.

No way out, over or above.

Just the long and at times lonely, walk through.

Sometimes it hits so hard, we come to a standstill. One which reminds us afresh of the lost one. Of the pain of having loved that person and no longer having them here in our midst in the way that we used to.

It hurts.

All I can do is ride it out.

And cut myself some slack. Re-check my schedule, re-assess what is really necessary right now and what can wait. Reduce my expectations. Listen to my body and respect its messages.

Ultimately, I can practice a little extra self-care. Experiment with when to push and when to let up. Trial and error. Learning along the way. Making adjustments where necessary.

After all, what really is the rush for anything? Do I have anything if I don’t have my health, if I refuse to stop and allow myself to heal?

Nothing is more important than health.

So I’m prioritising mine right now.

Not ministry, not the housework and not my finances. Because actually, without my health, what use are any of these?

I’m also letting my people know that I’m struggling. That I need a little extra encouragement right now. Because when my world becomes dark with grief, it’s the light of my people that breaks through and reminds me to keep trusting until my own light can shine again.

As I reflect upon my grieving process, I am reminded of how grieving has worked in my life previously, having experienced rather a lot of it. Not always related to death but always to loss.

What I recall is that it goes in cycles. I feel consumed by the grief for a period, then I experience a respite which feels wonderful in comparison, then another round of grief hits, feeling worse than the last because it’s now in contrast to feeling good and so the cycles repeat. Except that each time, the period of grieving becomes less severe and the period of respite becomes longer until the two eventually amalgamate in to a new norm.

It’s a process. One that I’m well versed in. So I know I can trust it to do its work of healing and transformation.

Yet I still need reminding when I’m in its midst for I can lose sight of the purpose of the pain.

This is the pain of healing.

Just like when a physical part of the body is healing and growing in strength again. It too can bring pain as part of the process.

I refuse to bypass this process.

I will not settle for Society’s short sighted offer of a superficial, intellect only healing. Tempting as it may be. I will not force my body to communicate through illness. When it starts warning me through the coldsore, sore throat, headache, nauseau or the really big warning sign, lack of appetite, I stop. I acknowledge my body’s message and respond accordingly.

Which means giving myself permission to do nothing. To simply be. To listen to the birds, to walk amongst God’s beautiful creation, to admire the buds of new life, to watch the sun’s rays bounce off the stillness of the river. I take these moments to just be still and allow myself to reconnect to the joy and privilege of simply being alive. Even when it hurts.

Because at the end of the day, I want a heart level healing. Or more realistically, a healthy heart level adjustment to the absence of the one who made such a difference to my world and my life.

Gosh I miss her.

Her smile, her expressions, her sense of fun and mischief, her laughter, her seeing, getting and reaching me with her love.

A mother’s love.

I want her back.

Now.

I don’t want to accept that she’s not coming back.

And I don’t want to wait until I get to Heaven to see her again.

Yet that’s the price I signed up to pay when I allowed her in to my heart; to mother me, to be a friend, a confidante, an encourager, a supporter, a stabiliser, a security provider, a champion of my dreams, a trusted one to share the day to day with, one to laugh with, cry with, share meals and pray with.

I signed up for this whether I consciously chose to or not. I signed up for the reality that when I allow myself to love someone, I must also accept that I may lose them.

It’s a non-negotiable part of the deal.

The possibility of losing love is part of the package of enjoying the love in the first place.

It’s just how it is. Sometimes we lose the people we love.

And the subsequent loss brings a painful grieving process with it.

It’s the price we pay for loving.

And I wouldn’t change it.

So instead of forcing my sadness deep within assisted by an onslaught of crisps and cake, I’m making a renewed commitment to myself to make time to grieve. Time to allow my tears to come forth, my sadness to be released. Secure in the knowledge that I will come through this with my heart still intact. I refuse to separate or cut off from my sadness or reduce myself to being half hearted. I will not settle for that.

I am choosing to remain full hearted. Even when it hurts to do so. Because this is the only way that I can remain fully connected and fully alive. And for however long I am gifted with the opportunity to live, I want to remain fully connected, fully feeling and fully living. Even now. Because I know that I will come through. I’ll be different as a result but I’ll still be fully alive.

And this business of staying fully alive is absolutely vital to me. Because I don’t believe for a nano second that my Jesus endured what he did on that cross for me to lamely settle for some little half hearted life where I’m shut off from everything that I don’t want to feel. Where in effect, I shut down the centre of who I am, the very lifeblood of my existence; my heart and soul. I just won’t do that.

And subsequently, I am trusting my Jesus to walk me through this. Every step of it. However long it takes. Whether I’m skipping, dancing or dragging myself. Because I believe that Jesus will help me to walk through my grief without relinquishing my ability to remain connected or whole. Or rather as whole as it is possible to be whilst this side of heaven.

It’s been a big wave. And it’s not done yet. But as I allow myself to engage more fully with my pain, I notice my joy for life, begin to filter back through. And somehow it’s sharper, clearer, more 3D, richer and fuller.

Grief hurts … but grief also heals.

It’s a paradox.

But one that it’s worthwhile engaging with.

At least if one wishes to continue living whilst living…

After death …

I’ve struggled to write following my last post. I mean, where to go after death? Death has happened to someone I love and with whom I would share all my news. This leaves a void that I cannot avoid. Yet in the mix of resuming my usual responsibilities, I find myself attempting to do just that. Trying to avoid the unavoidable void. (That’s a lot of voids!)

Death is literally everywhere. Whilst it’s not always a physical passing of someone, it appears in many guises through endings, change and loss. It is an unavoidable part of being alive. No one can avoid or dodge this reality. Including me.

Despite my past weeks’ best efforts at avoidance, I’ve heard about death within my practice, I’ve seen it in the nakedness of nature and it’s been there in the films I’ve watched; Nicholas Gift and Darkest Hour. It’s all around us. It’s part of life.

When I stop avoiding and look back, I see how the process of dying was eased for the one going through it, by the presence of those who love her, accompanying her on the journey.

I was struck through this by the reminder of the simple truth that what makes the unbearable bearable, is the love of those around you.

I reflected upon how this is not just true in the face of death but also for every trial and trauma of life. What makes the losses, the changes, the endings, the challenges, the fears, faceable, is having people around us that will simply be there with us. It doesn’t always have to be physically, but just knowing there are people around for us should we need them. This is what makes life not just bearable, but liveable.

Within my own friendships, it is those individuals who offer a place at their dinner table, or who pop in with flowers or who reassure me that I can call or come over if I want to, or who just sit with me whilst I weep, that help me to feel that I’m ok. That I can walk through this post death void. That I can bear the loss, the absence, the unfillable gap. That I can and will learn to adjust, without just avoiding or distracting. For it is these people that show me that I am loved and not alone.

I can’t help but wonder if we must wait for death, to draw closer to one another. Or whether we can apply death’s lessons to our living now.

As I reflect upon this I realise that it is death that exposes our vulnerability. It strips us of all pretence. There is no option to just be strong. No hiding place for our frailties, fragility, needs or limitations. No chance to feed our delusions of invincibility or to keep up appearances. In death, we are all released from the prison of stiff upper lipped thinking and living. For in death we are laid bare in all our vulnerable humanity, just as in birth.

In contrast, life can become one long culture driven exercise in hiding the very vulnerability that makes us human. We can learn to clothe our naked humanity in strength and self-sufficiency, blind to the truth that these characteristics can delude and divide us from our need for God and each other. We do of course need these qualities but without the balance of human weakness and interdependency, we cannot remain whole.

What if we were to admit our human vulnerabilities during the time in between birth and death? To actually acknowledge our shared human frailties in life and to support one another accordingly. For isn’t this how we truly connect with one another? Through admission and confession of our vulnerability and pain, not just our strengths and achievements?

There is a vulnerability surrounding death that can actually bring us closer together. A vulnerability that our culture dangerously dismisses as weakness, in life. But such thinking serves merely to succeed in keeping us within isolated prisons of pretence. And it is only in honesty and unity that we can all remain free to continue to heal, grow and live fully and whole heartedly irrespective of the deaths and endings that meet us along the way.

Life brings deaths, endings and pain.

Pretence about this creates barriers.

Vulnerability tears them down.

And only in vulnerability can we continue to truly meet one another in love, both in life and in death.

Let us not wait for death, to admit to the shared vulnerability of our humanity. None of us can choose how we will die but all of us can choose with whom and how we will live.

It’s CHRISTMAS … !

I LOVE Christmas.

I always have done and it hasn’t diminished with age. I love everything about it from the sparkly lights, to the cheddar loaded films, to the feasting and dancing of Christmas parties, to the gift choosing, the making of mince pies, the sound of carols and of course, all that wonderful food.

Why on earth do I always wait until December to enjoy the sumptuous goodness of pigs in blankets?

I just love Christmas.

But, I have a not before the 1st rule. As in, I don’t start Christmas before the 1st of December. But, once started, it continues for the entire month.

However, this year I broke my own rule, because as I was meandering around Hitchin market during the last week of November I unexpectedly stumbled across a Christmas tree stall. As in real Christmas trees. We weren’t allowed these as kids due to my mother’s aversion to mess but as I like real, living things I opt for the real McCoy every year. So when a super cute, short, fat tree caught my eye, I just knew that I had to have it. As in immediately! So I bought the car round, paid for the tree and bundled it in.

I justified my rule breaking by telling myself that I wouldn’t dress it before the 1st. However, as soon as I got home I found myself clambering up to the loft to drag down the decorations.

Later that night I couldn’t resist adding both baubles and lights to the tree. And of course, I discovered that I would need an additional plug socket to facilitate the lights. How is it that this happens every single year?

Anyway, I was delighted to discover that the tree wasn’t wonky. Despite my best efforts to the contrary, I had a run of years where I kept ending up with wonky Christmas trees, much to the amusement of one of my friends. (You know who you are!)

As I’d officially started my own Christmas season, I thought I may as well go the whole hog by baking my first batch of mince pies. I was subsequently pleased to discover courtesy of those within my house group that I have not lost my touch. Yum and yay!

And so it was that Christmas started early for me this year. I’m glad. Especially as last Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas. I had major aspects of my life that weren’t working and required addressing and as such the whole season had a pretty sombre feel to it. All the more reason as far as I’m concerned to have a double portion of Christmas cheer this year!

We can’t stop the inevitable tough seasons of trial and change but what we can do, is embrace the good ones with both hands. On the understanding, that these too shall pass!

Now, a few weeks in to my Christmas month, I’ve bought most my gifts, I’ve had my first Christmas party, I’ve bought new frocks in preparation for the next three Christmas parties and I’ve watched numerous Christmas films.

I’m always struck by the themes of these Christmas films which are often about paying attention to the wisdom of the heart and having the courage to follow it. Whilst this is exaggerated to the extreme within most of these films, they still serve to remind us of the importance of the heart as way more than an organ that pumps blood around the body.

A message that can all too easily become lost within our culture with its dogged determination to have us believe we can simply bypass our hearts by ruling ourselves with an iron mind. Which of course we can, but we are very much deluding ourselves if we imagine we can do so without cost or consequence.

Afterall, it is via our hearts that love flows.

To this end, the Christmas season has much to remind us about what really matters in life. That when we strip back all that surrounds Christmas, what we are left with is the birthday of a God who came to show us what love is. And who amongst us longs for more than to love and be loved? For is it not love that gives us the ultimate reason for living, especially through the hard times?

And of course Christmas can be an extremely difficult time for many. The constant onslaught of imagery depicting ‘perfect happy families’ can be decidedly difficult to swallow if this is far from your own experience or you’re in the midst of a season of struggle or loss. We cannot simply conjure up bonhomie on demand because we’re in December.

But, what each of us can do irrespective of whether we are relishing the run up to Christmas or counting down the days til it’s over, is to extend a little extra love to ourselves and to others. Because isn’t that what Christmas is all about?