Celebrate the Hurting

 

I have always found Mother's Day difficult, and more so in recent years. I know many women who also find it difficult for various reasons: mums without their child, daughters and sons without their mum, people with memories of an abusive mum, women without children because of infertility or singleness, etc.

As a child, I felt inadequate on this Day because my mother actively discouraged me from treating her to breakfast in bed or of acting any different to usual. She was very controlling and preferred always to do things her way, irrespective of what any well-meant action on this Day represented.

I was an avid reader from a very young age and having read about a little girl buying her mum a blue glass vase for Mother's Day I resolved to do the same. I was so little that I had to ask my dad to get it. He was a good dad but definitely a product of his generation so I wasn't allowed to go and choose it with him and while he asked me what kind of vase I had in mind, he evidently didn't listen because he came back with a beige and brown pot affair with hideous red splodges on it. I was disappointed but not surprised. He wasn't being mean, it was just how things were. My mother seemed pleased with it, however. She was never keen on chocolates, flowers or smellies so could be challenging to buy for.

Since Adi and I discovered we couldn't have children and then miscarrying our tiny twins nearly fifteen  years ago, I have struggled with Mother's Day. Advertisers always seem to assume everything is hunky-dory and make no provision for heartache, loss and empty arms,

Thinking of all this, this morning I wondered what God thinks about Mother's Day. I was reminded that He heals the broken-hearted and binds up our wounds. And the Father comprehends exactly the heartache caused in losing a beloved child. 

So today I celebrate the hurting women. 

Delivered and Possible

 

This Friday I'm once again combining the Lent challenge (delivered) with Five Minute Friday (possible):

I took this photo of Japan's Kohei Uchimura at the 2012 Olympics (on the television; sadly, I couldn't get tickets for the actual event). Uchimura is one of my favourite male gymnasts (now retired, I believe) because even if he fell and his routine went awry, he always kept going and giving his best - and often won a gold or silver medal in the process. He made the impossible or unlikely seem possible.

Several years ago we had a powerful move of the Spirit in the church I then attended. As part of that, many of us who had been Believers for years were delivered from evil spirits. Yes, they are real, and yes, they can cling on to Believers. None of us had idea they were there until they showed their presence, often during Sunday services and prayer meetings. 

I discovered in a very real way the power of Jesus's name - the spirit world is well aware of who He really is and they have no choice but to obey Him. Jesus is far more powerful than any evil spirit. Although I've always known the theory of Jesus's cleansing blood and that by His death and resurrection He rescued me from the domain of darkness and put me safely in His own beautiful Kingdom of Light, during that time and since I've experienced that reality. 

God makes all things possible, even being delivered from evil and haunting influences. A word of warning though: as an account in Acts in the Bible makes clear, you can't mess about with the unseen. Their power is real and they hate humans who are made in the image of God. 

Thanks

 

The first thing that sprang to mind when I saw today's prompt (thanks) was the time my dad got a heart transplant.

My dad had a very poorly functioning heart in the early 1990s and the only treatment he could be offered was an organ transplant. He was put on the waiting list which was 2 1/2 years long; he was given 2 years to live. I was never very hopeful of it working out and, in fact, turned my back on God at the time. 

After nine months, my dad had no real quality of life and was slowly dying before our eyes. I jumped every time the phone in the kitchen rang (this was before mobile phones).

We had two false attempts before he finally got his new heart. He had been so ill and it felt like time was running out - we were overjoyed when he had the surgery. On behalf of my family, I wrote a short letter to the generous family of the heart donor to thank them. My dad had always been a fit, active man who played football and climbed Snowdon. While waiting for his transplant, I had to wheel him around in a wheelchair. It was heart-breaking. After having his new heart, he took up golf and represented the UK as a swimmer in the World Transplant Games. 

Thanks to the wonderful generosity of a family from the north of England, my dad enjoyed another ten good years when he was able to give me away at my wedding, play golf and go horse riding with me, and spend time with his young grandchildren.

My dad really had two new hearts - one physical, the other spiritual. He wasn't perfect but no one could doubt he loved the Lord. He was whole-hearted in everything he did, including being a Christian.

Honour

 

This is my friends' dog Skipper. When I stayed with them one weekend, Skipper loved it when I played with him with his toys. 

I count it an honour when an animal wants to be with me and invites me to play.

I once had a guinea pig called Pickles. I taught him to climb the stairs and I'd race him on all fours. I hugely enjoyed it but didn't realise how much he did until one day I felt two little paws on my calf. I'd let all eight of my piggies play in the hall and when I glanced down there was Pickles on his hind legs pushing against my calf with his front paws: his way of asking me to race him up the stairs. We both got into position and set off. I forget who won (he was faster than me although I was bigger) but that memory still gives me a lot of joy. A guinea pig asking me to play. What an honour.

Rested and Green

 
Today I'm once again combining the Lent Challenge (rested) with Five Minute Friday (green).

I chose the above photos from a long weekend away I had in Flald-y-Brenin three years ago with a good friend. It was both restful and full of greenery.

Rest is as important as exercise and activity. God set the ultimate example by resting at the end of the first week from His work of creating the universe. 

I belong to a Facebook group which encourages individuals with health issues to get moving. We applaud a few steps round the house and thirty mile bike rides. We also cheer each other on when someone has a rest day (like me today). 

Rest is important for the wellness of our whole being. I also find - with lockdown and other challenges - that enjoying nature is important for my mental and emotional health. I mostly keep away from the countryside around us because so many other people are enjoying it but don't always bother to socially distance, making me feel unsafe with the current pandemic. So I often confine my walks to the town but pounding the streets doesn't relax and refresh me as much as the greenery and rivers.

The psalmist, King David, clearly valued the joys of nature as evidence in Psalm 23: 'You lead me beside still waters and make me lie down in green meadows; You restore my soul.' 

Labour

 

One of my favourite Bible verses is Matthew 11:28: 'Come to Me, all you who labour and are burdened because My yoke is easy and My burden is light.'

Words of Jesus.

In those days in the Holy Land it was common for a working farm animal like an ox to be yoked up with an older ox so the younger ox could learn how to work correctly. If they were both pulling in the same direction, the yoke should sit easy on their shoulders/necks. I gather Jesus' words were meant to conjure up a picture of an individual being yoked to Him, ie doing life His way, meaning that it would be much better for us to do so than pulling against Him all the time.

God lets us do things our own way but the invitation is there to come to Him and do things His way: invitation with a promise that it will be better for us. He doesn't force us into anything. The decision is ours. We can either labour on with life hoping we're right or we can chuck in our lot with God and live life His way, thus experiencing an 'easy yoke and 'lighter burden'. 

(The word labour also made me think of a donkey which is  often described as a beast of burden. So I had a very pleasant few minutes looking up donkey pictures on the Internet. Enjoy.)

Steadfast

 

Steadfast makes me think of rock, permanence, commitment, faithful, reliability. Words that could be used to describe God. Even in the really dark, tough times, regardless of how it may seem, He steadfastly loves me. Nothing can change His love or separate me from it. I need to cling to that when everything feels overwhelming.

Words

 

Words..... As I've got older - and hopefully a little wiser - I've learned a lot about the power of words.

I've discovered that saying very little or nothing (but being there for them) is often more helpful to someone going through trouble than saying too much or talking in cliches. 

'Are you over it yet?' to a new widow/er or a heartbroken friend is a huge no-no. I learned this by having it said to me years ago when I'd had my heart broken. It was so painful I resolved never to say it to anyone else. Another big no-no when someone is going through a painful relationship split is: 'There are plenty more fish in the sea.' That may be true but all the broken-hearted person usually wants is the particular 'fish' they've just lost. 

I've discovered - learning the hard way through painful experience - that simply being with someone and not necessarily saying anything is far more comforting than lots of empty words.

When I was first diagnosed with a mental health condition, what I longed for was a friend to simply sit with me in the pain. Words - however well meant (and we mostly do mean well when we spout words in these situations) - generally fell short of the mark because my pain felt so immense. I was going though a huge and extremely painful life change. I didn't want words, I needed a friend. 

Having said all that, words used gently and wisely can be healing balm. Last summer when I was physically very ill, I valued most the friends who made contact regularly. With the COVID restrictions and my need to shield, it was a very lonely time and it was easy - lying in bed feeling absolutely dreadful - to think I was forgotten. But a handful of faithful friends texted, rang or messaged me through Facebook. They kept me going. Another wonderful friend emailed every few days and sent cards and small gifts through the post every week.  The words 'How are you?' or 'Thinking of you' appearing on my phone shone bright in the midst of that horrible lonely darkness. 

When we were in Grace Church Nottingham, there were a number of people there with a prophetic gifting. To arrive on a Sunday morning feeling low and vulnerable only for someone to bring a 'word' during the worship never failed to make me feel better. Ten years ago when I suffered with ME/chronic fatigue, those 'words' kept me going from one week to the next.

Spoke

 

I struggle with fatigue these days and do mornings less well than I ever have. The alarm on my iPad is a nice gentle song that I chose to ease me into the day. Unfortunately, I often sleep through it. 

So to help me out, Adi sets a 09:30 alarm with Alexa. 

This morning, I came to in a befuddled blurry haze. 

'Alarma, stop alarm.'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

'Alana, STOP.'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

'A-LARN-A STOP.'

BEEP BEEP BEEP

I rolled out of bed and blundered onto the landing to find Adi.

'What's the name of that thing?'

'Alexa.' He was trying not to laugh.

'Alexa, stop alarm.' I commanded. Oh the silent bliss that followed. Silent that is except for my sudden uncontrolled giggling.

I'm glad that when God speaks, He does it with knowledge and authority. I got the authority bit down pat but, as I discovered, the Amazon dot/echo/thing doesn't respond unless you use its correct name. I could say Alana as much as I liked but it was never going to work until I said Alexa.

Rise

 I and - I suspect - many of my ACW (Association of Christian Writers) friends are missing Scargill.

This is a view of the chapel rising from the greenery. Scargill is a Christian retreat centre about a mile from Kettlewell (head for Skipton and turn right). 

Scargill is closed just now to visitors because of this wretched COVID-19 pandemic.

I've watched Calendar Girls a couple of times recently and it has caused a pang both times because some of it was filmed in Kettlewell and Skipton. 

Scargill, hopefully I will be back with you soon.....

Bless and Enable

 

I'm combining Five Minute Friday (enable) with the Rethink Church Lent challenge (bless).

I've been blessed particularly in the last twelve months with good friends: people who have really been there for me by texting or ringing, dropping off meals so Adi didn't have to cook, and sending cards, flowers and gifts. 

I had a WhatsApp video call yesterday with an old friend with whom I used to work. We haven't spoken for a few years and she listened as I relayed rather a woeful tale of mental and physical ill health to her. She didn't try to fix me or minimise my pain, meaning I felt heard and safe. She did direct me to this YouTube song which I've listened to twice since speaking with her.

The truth in this song is enabling me to keep going in what is possibly the darkest, most difficult season of my life. Hear what Job and Shane & Shane and John Piper and God are saying: for the believer, no pain is for nothing. It is earning for us an eternal weight of glory. Right now, I'm choosing to believe that. 

It is important that pain is acknowledged and that we sit with each other in our pain, grief and anger, not minimising or spiritualising it away. It's okay not to be okay. We can be hurting and broken now but it's not for nothing. God has a purpose in it even though we mostly can't begin to understand. That's why He's bigger than us. His thoughts aren't our thoughts and His ways are higher than ours. But that doesn't mean He doesn't sit with us in our pain and count our tears in His bottle (or an equivalent if, like me, you find it near impossible to cry).

Call

 

I used to love praying. 

As a teenager, I'd shut myself in the spare room at my parents' house on a Sunday afternoon and pace up and down praying.

When I was ill with ME/chronic fatigue syndrome ten years ago, I spent two to five minutes a day praising God. After I was healed, one of my favourite things was to pace up and down the long narrow kitchen in the house we then lived in praying, praising and singing at the top of my voice. We weren't attached to anyone on that side of the house so hopefully I didn't disturb the neighbours. It was just a little embarrassing if the postman knocked!

After God healed me of ME/CFS I enjoyed prayer walking round the streets, praying in to situations and for seven-fold peace (peace, wholeness, completeness, welfare, prosperity, tranquillity and harmony) on my neighbours. 

That all changed sadly three years ago when abusive and traumatic childhood memories suddenly and unexpectedly returned. For months I was angry at God for allowing it (I still don't have answers but am no longer so angry).

One of the reasons I enjoyed praying so much in the past was that as I called on God, He blessed me with His presence, sometimes so tangible I'd end up on the floor, often laughing uncontrollably. It was fantastic. I felt so close to God at those times.

It was so different when my mental health went downhill. I questioned everything and was constantly exhausted from being hyperalert all the time. Praying turned into angry rants. God was big enough to deal with it but I missed Him.

I sometimes wished God had a phone number that I could just ring and we could talk. Prayer can sometimes feel so one-sided - especially if we're not well mentally, physically or emotionally, never mind spiritually.

Although I've changed, God hasn't and I believe He is still delighted to be with me when I call on Him - though these days I have to believe it more by faith than from enjoying His presence. But that doesn't mean He's not there.

Now I'm more stable mentally, I've recently started prayer-walking the new estate where we now live. I used to have very angry walks - I didn't see anything or anyone clearly. It's far nicer going for walks when I'm murmuring blessings on the people I pass and praying for God's Kingdom to come - and hopefully there'll be eternal spiritual benefit as well as physical and mental benefits here and now.

The Thorn of Truth

 

If you enjoyed Sue Russell's The Healing Knife, you'll love this. It's a stand alone book while following on from the Healing Knife in that we find out more about Rachel, Michael and Jasper.

A gentle easy read about barrister Anna Milburn who finds herself wrestling with her conscience - whether to defend a local businessman suspected of being a drug dealer when he is arrested for murdering a policeman. It becomes more and more personal and Anna is worried sick about it putting her only daughter in danger.

The characters are interesting. I enjoyed reading about Anna's work colleagues, especially her clerk of chambers, Janet.

I'm giving it 4 stars.

Everlasting

 

Everlasting.... the word can have two meanings that immediately come to my mind. 

Waiting for test results or for coronavirus numbers to come down to a safe level so we can come out of lockdown can feel everlasting!

The other everlasting thing is good: being in paradise and then later on, the new earth. I used to think it would be like a Grace Church prayer meeting - the prayer times at Grace were something else and I never wanted them to end! Especially when God's tangible presence was present. The idea of enjoying God Himself for ever is pretty fantastic and something to which I'm looking forward with much anticipation. 

No harps and nighties on clouds thank you very much. I think if this present earth has so much variety for us to enjoy, God can be trusted to make sure paradise and the perfect new earth will be far better - so wonderful we can't even imagine it. There is fullness of joy in His presence - and that's good enough for me. Fullness of joy:  so much joy that we can't hold a drop more - and this amazing, marvellous time will never end. Great.

Name

The first consultant I worked for as a medical secretary/PA taught me how important is a name. His surname was unusual but similar to another name - so many people got it wrong. He would even refuse to meet with medical reps who couldn't be bothered to get it right (I would warn them though it didn't always work). 

Three years ago I was diagnosed with a mental health condition called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Because of a traumatic and abusive past, I have over fifty little girls in my head. They are all 'me' at different ages. As they each appeared, I gave them nicknames to tell them apart but my therapist suggested giving them real names. I think that may have been a bit of a turning point in my healing process - giving them names. By naming them, they knew they were precious and of value. They were heard and seen, known and loved (which I guess is what we all want).

Initially, my diagnosis really got me down. It wasn't just the fragmentation that was difficult to deal with - it was the realisation that I'd been so badly hurt in the past. I was greatly helped and comforted at the time by a verse in Isaiah  (40:26) which seemed to fit my situation perfectly:

Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
Who created all these?  
He who brings out the starry host one by one 
and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
not one of them is missing.

Broken and hurting we might be, but He knows me and all my girls by name - and not one of us is missing. My Daddy-God loves and cares for us in a way my abusers did not.

Walk

 

2020 was the year of the walk. And so is 2021 so far. 

I love where I live, on the edge of the countryside. Within five minutes' walk, I am on a nature reserve and farmland. For the last couple of springs I've revelled in the fields, hills, woods and streams. Apart from the occasional dog-walker, I've had it to myself.

But these days I restrict myself to wandering around town. There are too many visitors to the countryside, and the paths are narrow. I sometimes wonder if I'm the only person in this area to be taking the COVID precautions seriously? So few people will move aside or allow adequate space when we pass. It's safer to stick to the pavements and step out into the road if people won't budge.

The other day I was longing for the countryside so thought I'd risk it but soon discovered the path was busy with small groups. I'd have needed specialist breathing apparatus to get safely past them all. So I turned aside and nipped down a very muddy field path. I was ankle deep in liquid mud. Just as I was thinking, 'This is deep,' my welly got stuck. In pulling it free, I fell over backwards with a loud squelch and a splash. Adi had to hose me down in the garden when I got back home.

This afternoon was so bright and sunny, I headed for the canal. It was pretty quiet human-traffic-wise and I was able to enjoy the swans and ducks. Being out in nature did me good emotionally and mentally.

Remember

 

To anyone who has to take regular medication, they will know it is important to remember to take it.

I don't have a problem with my morning meds but I have one tablet I have to take in an evening and I'd never remember it if I didn't set an alarm on my phone. The downside is that sometimes the alarm goes off - stridently and insistently - when I'm out for my evening walk or run. 

Now I've hit middle age, I also find it useful to write lists of what I'm meant to be doing when. I used to be able to rely on my memory but I frequently now find myself walking into a room and trying to remember what I've gone in there for. Or going upstairs for something, getting distracted and coming down without it.

Jesus knew us very thoroughly when He devised the Lord's Supper as a visual reminder for us to remember Him and what He's done for us. 

Sign

 

A friend who is also taking part in this Lent challenge wrote a prayer-poem for today, noting how much easier it would be sometimes if God would give us a simple, clear sign but often life can feel as bewildering as being on a small boat in the middle of the sea with only the sun or moon to guide us.

I can appreciate where she's coming from with that.

With COVID and personal health challenges in the last twelve months, I've often felt a bit despairing, like I'm on unfamiliar and uncharted territory. I can't see the road ahead, sometimes I can't even see the next step, and that's unsettling to say the least.

Another friend recently sent me this verse written by a wise prophet called Isaiah (42:16):

I will lead blind [insert name] down a new path,
guiding them along an unfamiliar way.
I will brighten the darkness before them
and smooth out the road ahead of them.
Yes, I will indeed do these things;
I will not forsake them.

I guess we all feel at the moment like we're being led down a new path and guided in an unfamiliar way. But I'm heartened by this verse - I'm being led and guided. God knows where I'm going and has a map even though I feel lost and bewildered. I can trust Him, knowing that - however it may look at times - He will not forsake me.

Living

 

My friend died today. I'd never met her in person, only online. 

Despite severe limitations of enduring stage 4 cancer during the COVID pandemic, Bex knew how to live. She inspired me (I hate to say someone with cancer is an inspiration as that is intensely annoying - they are just getting on with it, as anyone would). But Bex did inspire me. She showed me how to live.

She planned her funeral a few months ago. She wanted to be ready and not leave loose ends undone. 

Despite pain and breathlessness and the other seemingly endless side effects of having cancer, she got on with her life. Bex knew how to live. She went for walks, enjoyed friends (socially distanced of course) and appeared to squeeze every drop of joy out of each day. 

I will hugely miss Bex. It heartened me to interact with her on social media. She didn't gloss over her problems and fought to make known that 31 people per day die of stage 4 breast cancer in the UK #Iamthe31. 

For the last few weeks I've been looking out for Bex's posts on Instagram each evening. I'm going to miss our online chat tonight. I'm sorry for myself but glad for her, so glad for her. She is no longer living here but enjoying fullness of life in paradise. 

Rest in peace, Bex. See you soon 💜

Covenant

 

This Lent I am once again joining in with UM Rethink Church's Lent word-a-day challenge. 

Today's word is: covenant.

I was king of the country but wasn't always that great as a father and a husband. 

Famous stories are told about me: I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and accidentally saw a gorgeous lady having a bath. She thought she was completely private; she didn't know I was ogling and objectifying her. Because I was king, I could do anything and have any woman I wanted so I sent for her. 

I believe today you'd say I raped her. I certainly didn't behave decently towards her.

I didn't even take precautions so she got pregnant. That was awkward because her husband - who was in my elite fighting force - was away at war. I had him sent home thinking he would sleep with her and then everyone would assume the baby was his. But he was an honourable man and didn't think it right for him to enjoy home comforts while his men were away suffering. I had to think fast - so I had him murdered. Later I married Bathsheba and our son became a famous king and the wisest man on earth. 

But I felt terrible about the whole episode. I shouldn't have acted like that. It was wicked of me.

Another time, my beautiful young daughter was raped by my son but, to my shame, I did nothing about it. No justice for her. Another of my sons carried out vigilante justice and then went too far and I ended up pretty much losing everything.

I'm not proud of how I acted. I was a flawed human being. But these two accounts do not add up to the man I was. I was also called the sweet psalmist of Israel and a man after God's own heart. Because I loved God first and foremost. Whenever I realised I'd done wrong it broke my heart and I truly repented. My relationship with the Most High was the most important thing in my life.

I enjoyed living in a luxurious palace but we worshiped God in a tent. A glorious tent, but still a tent. I wasn't happy with that. I have always wanted God to have the very best. So I planned to build Him a glorious temple. It didn't work out, as God had planned for my son to build it. But in the process, God made a covenant with me. He promised my throne would last forever. 

He meant that the Promised One would come through my line - that He would be my descendant. What an honour. 

I was so humbled to know that God would choose me - so flawed - with whom to make a covenant that would bring huge blessing to millions. Truly awesome.