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.