Benji, my baby brother

I think I've mentioned my house before. As I walk up the stairs (about a million times-a-day, carrying a million times my weight in clothes, toys and bags) I am met at the top by a comforting site. The shelf at the top of our stairs (restored by me) is an old dresser top. It is painted cream, and houses special memories - Seth's first shoes, a dried bunch of flowers from Dave to me, a few shells from Swanage Beach, my favourite book as a child, "Milly Molly Mandy Stories", a blue, ceramic clock made for me by a student's mum and lots of photos. Without a doubt, the photo that makes me smile the most is one that I inherited from my Nanny Pocock when she died. On the top shelf, next to the ceramic clock, sits a small gold, oval frame, enclosing a photo of two children: a smiley baby boy, sitting in front of his first birthday presents, with his dark-haired big sister supporting him, sitting behind. The girl is me, the baby, my brother.

I'm not sure if I've ever mentioned my brother on here before. If not, I think I know why. You see, trying to describe my brother is very difficult. I struggle to describe him to anyone for fear of not finding the right words, or people believing what I say. So, this blog entry will be written without fear. It may seem incredulous and it may seem a bit sickly sweet, but I don't care. There are times when we need to speak our heart, and this is one of them. I just hope that it doesn't sounds like an obituary!!!

Benjamin Charles Pocock was born at around 11pm on 5th September 1984. The first I knew of it, was when I was woken up, by my next door neighbour, to find myself in their house...I'd been asleep when my dad had carried me over!!! I came downstairs and was given the phone. I remember hearing my dad's voice, saying, "Sally, you've got a little baby brother!" He was really excited. I had hoped for a sister, but when I saw my little baby brother the next day, I completely fell in love with him. Oh my goodness, right now as I write, I am sobbing!!!! Pull yourself together, woman!!!!

In the hospital shop, I bought Ben a little white rabbit, with a blue outfit on. It had a little blue ribbon sewn into the top of its head in a loop. It was just like Bun Bun, my most precious toy. As I went into the room where my mum was staying, I remember seeing a tiny bundle, wrapped in a white blanket, laying in a plastic cot. Mum picked him up and held his little pink face in her hand, whilst his little bottom rested on her knee. His face looked all squashed and I laughed.

At the age of 7, and having never had a sibling, I was so excited when Mum and Dad told me that they were going to have a baby. I lay on the floor kicking my legs and shouting, "woo hoo" with excitement. This pleasure at having a baby brother has not ever dwindled. I remember his first night home from hospital. He started to cry during the night and I went into his room , to see if he was okay. Mum told me not to worry as he would be crying a lot and it didn't always mean he was upset. Ben's crying never bothered me. He never bothered me.

I remember his first birthday - the first time he crawled!!!! A year old for a first crawl was pretty late, but Ben didn't need to crawl as I brought everything to him!!! Ben's smile was so cute - he had quite a chubby face and so his eyes were quite slitty!!!! So cute!!

As a toddler, Ben was very funny. He was incredibly shy in public. He would often put his hands over his eyes (if I can't see them, then they can't see me) or hide behind Mum's skirt. But at home, Ben was the entertainer. His favourite was to bend over and look through his legs. Occasionally, this would be accompanied by his "funny laugh" - "ohhhhh hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo!!"

Ben was a Wise Man in his pre-school nativity. He walked in, head held high and amazed everyone with his confidence as he passed myrrh to the Baby Jesus.

As Ben started school, he made friends easily - Rodney, Richard and Frank - such funny names for little boys!!! His first teacher, Mrs Cowley adored Ben as he was so easy to teach and such a kind soul. Ben was never in trouble and was very popular. I remember that he even had a little girlfriend, called Katy. Around this age, on one occasion, I was really mean to Ben. I was 12 years old and having a chat in the kitchen with my friend, Katie. Mum had popped over to a neighbour's house and I had been left in charge. Ben had wanted to be with me and Katie in the kitchen and I had closed the door with him out in the hall way. I held the handle of the door so that he could not get in. He cried and pulled the door and eventually, I let go. Well, Ben got a whack on the forehead from the door and fell over with the force of it. I felt terrible. I cried, while Ben just sat there, rubbing his head. I don't remember ever hurting Ben again. He was so precious to me, that I couldn't bear to hurt him.

Ben and I, despite being 7 years apart in age, often played together as kids. Holidays to Swanage were awesome. Trips to the arcade, crabbing off the harbour and dinghying off the shore, rowing about with each other, and building sand castles. I loved playing with Ben, and rarely felt irritated by him or crowded. We did have our own little squabbles: who would get what table mat at Sunday lunch? Who sat on the sofa nearest to the telly? Who got the most squash in their cup? But Ben and I did not argue, did not fight and were not mean to each other.

We had our private jokes, silly made-up songs and shared hilarious memories.

Going to uni was difficult. I really missed Ben. He was 11, and started secondary school whilst I was away. He once was nudged by a bully at school, as they passed each other on the playground. When I heard that this bully had even nudged my brother, I was ready to find him and really hurt him. I was so angry. Ben was perfectly capable of handling himself, but it didn't stop me from wanting to grab that kid by the neck and scare the living daylights out of him.

Another thing that happened to Ben whilst I was away was that he got baptised. Mum sent me an audio recording of his personal story and the actual baptism. Although I was far from God and not attending church, I was so pleased that Ben was going for God. His testimony was strong, and I knew, as Mum had prayed for him every night, that he would be a "mighty man of God".

Ben remained often on my mind. In my final year at uni, I struggled with what I now know as depression, and I generally treated myself really badly. One night at a party, I had taken two ecstasy pills. I had felt a bit odd and so I sat down on a bed, in front of a Salvador Dali painting. At the best and most lucid of times, one of Salvador Dali's paining could confuse you, but with added narcotics, it became very frightening. My heart began to race, and my ears became muffled. I must have looked a bit strange as suddenly, people were gathered around me. At that moment, I thought that I was going to die. I knew that I had taken too many and probably a "dodgy" pill - they're ALL dodgy, but some are "cut" or mixed with other drugs. I immediately thought of my mum, my dad and my brother, knowing that they were my life before, my happy life, my safe life. I vomited pretty heavily and felt better straight away. That night, I slept it off and vowed not to take drugs again.

Not long after uni and teacher training, I moved home and began my first job as a teacher. As you may have previously read, I became unexpectedly pregnant. Ben was in the middle of his GCSE year. I felt ashamed and so I apologised to Ben. What kind of example was I? How on earth could Ben respect someone like me? He'd not let me know he felt ashamed of me as he was too nice a person, but I thought he'd feel it. So, when I said sorry, I expected him to feel disappointed but say "that's ok". Instead, Ben simply said, "you should say sorry to God, not me." I was floored. Such wisdom. Such humility. Such grace. How had he got it all?!?!

Needless to say, Ben was devoted to Roo. When Roo was born, I immediately called him Little Pookey - for a while Ben had been called Pookey (only by me!!) All I wanted for Roo was that he turn out like my brother. In fact, that 's all I want for both of my boys, to this day.

On my wedding day, Ben and I saw each other in the foyer of the church just after Dad and I arrived. I couldn't keep eye contact with him for long. I knew I'd cry. He looked so smart and I knew he'd cry too!! He said Grace at our reception - no-one could have done it better than my little brother. He was awesome.

Ben is an amazing uncle. When Roo was born, he suddenly was known - all the time to our family - as Benji. My children love him. They cheer when they know they're going to see him. They cry when they can't. They play with him, have fun with him and listen to him. They miss him when they are not with him. He is kind, cuddly, loving, firm and accepting of who they are. My husband loves Benji. He really likes him, thinks he's "a really solid guy". Dave says that Benji "is a guy of real quality." My sentiments exactly.

Benji makes good choices. He follows God wherever he takes him. He goes on adventures. He squeezes every exciting element out of life. He leads strongly, he follows humbly and with commitment. He works hard, has loads of friends and takes everything in his stride. He puts up with no rubbish, but is very gentle and kind.

Benji also has the most wonderful girlfriend. As he has grown, I have prayed that he would marry someone beautiful, kind, funny, clever,and godly. Although they are not married yet, Heather has exceeded all of my prayers and hopes for Benji. If it is possible, she makes Benji a better man. She is amazing. They are amazing together. They are silly together and serious together. I love them together. She is my friend, too - encouraging, generous and funny. I love Heather very, very much. I am so pleased that they found each other - another good choice by my little brother!!!

I said at the beginning of this entry that I find it very hard to describe my brother. As I come to the end, I feel unsatisfied. I have not said all I want to say. How can I? How can I describe one of the most precious people I have ever known? Benji simply is my brother, my inspiration, my hopes fulfilled, and my great friend. I trust him, and I really like him. I love him so very much, and although I want him to live a full life with Heather, their children and the travels they plan, I do not ever want to be apart from him. I want them to go wherever God takes them - and feel thoroughly released, but I will forever be waiting for Benji to pop round for a cup of tea and a giggle.

I guess he might read this. If so - we know each other, don't we, Ben? And whilst I've babbled on for ages, I know, that you know...words can't describe how I feel about you, my precious baby brother xxx

Why do I knit?

This morning, I read that knitting and sewing is becoming a "celebrity favourite". Apparently, it's become trendy. Madonna likes to knit and sew, as do various fashion models.

I'm not famous, but I do knit. As my closest friends will tell you, I carry my knitting wherever I go, and I make time to knit as much as possible. I regularly knit in public and as much as possible, on my own. I am a founding member of "Clickin' Sticks" a knitting group in Camberley. We meet every Wednesday in Starbucks in Camberley, from 7pm and until 8pm (or until they kick us out!!) I often give knitted gifts to my friends, I spend a considerable amount of time on Ravelry.com, which is basically Facebook for knitters!!! I share photos of my knitted projects and (believe it or not) I actually photograph the yarn that I buy, and post photos of that, too!!

I learnt to knit as a child. Although my Nanny Pocock (my Dad's mum) knitted a lot, it was actually my mum who taught me. I remember struggling with her grey, metal needles and acrylic yarn. Mum would cast on for me, and then I'd try to knit the rows. My stitches were so tight that they'd squeak, as I try to move them up and down the needles. I first thing I remember knitting was a red scarf for one of my toys. Occasionally, Mum would do the odd row for me. As I looked back at the scarf, it was obvious which rows were mine, and which were Mum's. My rows were too tight, or too loose. Stitches had been dropped, and then Mum had picked them up. I'd even added extra stitches, which Mum had then dropped on her rows. I made mistakes all over the place, and Mum's knitting not only was perfect, but she corrected my mistakes!!!

As a teenager, I knitted every now and then. The mums in our street, including mine, shared magazines. So, we would regularly get second-hand magazines posted through the door. Woman's Weekly was a favourite for me, as it often had knitting patterns. Around the time that Wallace and Gromit's first adventure was made, the magazine published a knitting pattern for Wallace. I knitted it up as quickly as I could. It was for this pattern, that I learnt to purl. Again, Mum taught me. After finishing Wallace, I ordered a pattern for Gromit, which I knitted as soon as it arrived. Wallace and Gromit were given to my little brother, and have now been passed on to my friend's little boy, who loves them.

Before uni, I knitted a bunny with a chunky jumper, which I gave to a friend's newborn baby. I sewed more than knitted a uni, making my own clothes, sometimes. My uni had a "Soft 3D" department, in which I tried to spend as much time as possible, feeling the fabric and learning how to sew and design, from the lady in charge. I loved it there. It was at that point that I began to wonder if I should have studied Textiles instead if Theatre.


I can't quite remember when I started knitting again, but in the last few years, knitting has become my therapy, my escape, my indulgence and my obsession. I knit all sorts of things - toys, blankets, scarves, hat, mittens, cardigans, pieces of art. I love yarn. It is so varied - different colours, textures, materials, shapes. I love knitting needles - especially ones made by Knitpro and Art Viva - they are so beautiful. I love knitters. We are fascinated with each other's work. We talk, we drink coffee, we snuggle down, we LOVE the Winter, we swap ideas and techniques, and we help each other. I love going to yarn shops. I feel the yarns, feel the needles, chat to other shoppers and I take my time.

Knitting brings colour to my life. It brings peace and relaxation. It brings satisfaction, as I create something and enjoy the reaction of its recipient. It comes with me, wherever I go. It introduces me to new friends. It keeps me warm. It takes me back to my roots, reminding me of my grandmothers and my mum.

Quite frankly, I couldn't care less if knitting is trendy or not. If famous people want to knit, well, good for them. But whatever happens to the status of knitting, I just love it. Every day, I pray that I will be able to continue knitting. I pray against RSI and Arthritis. I thank God that He has give me something wonderful to enjoy.

In my life, I often look back, as I did with my knitting as a child, and I see the "rows" where I've gone wrong, and then the places where God has picked up my dropped stitches, and loosened things when there's too much tension. God removes the useless, pointless things in my life (just like those extra stitches) and gets me back on track. He corrects my mistakes, just as my mum did. I love to read in Psalm 139, verse 13, that God "knitted me together in my mother's womb". It must have taken Him a long time...

...And, I'm pretty sure that He didn't drop any stitches.

I sometimes wonder whether I am the only person who isn't hugely excited about a New Year. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the holidays and all that it involves, including New Year's Eve. I am not unhappy at the moment, or anxious about what lies ahead, but I do feel that January 1st is "just another day".

I don't have any New Year's Resolutions. I don't have any Big Plans for 2010. I don't feel hugely reflective about last year, and I don't feel hopeful about this year. I feel pretty chilled and, I guess, a little "numb".

You see, I have hopes and plans for the future. I'd like to lose some weight and get fitter. I'd like to move house, so that we can be nearer to our church and our kids' school. I'd like to spend more time with my close girlfriends, and to be a blessing to other women in my life. I'd like to react in a calmer and more positive way to my children. I'd like to see more romance in my marriage. I'd like to be more organised and to remember dates and meetings. I'd like to learn to surf. I'd like to read and study my Bible...regularly!!! I'd like to have a tidier house. I'd like to be more creative...maybe write a book...or a series of books!!!

The fact is, I'd like to do and be, a lot more than now. But, I recognise that there are reasons why this stuff has not happened....yet. Some things are not my priority. Some are out of my reach. I can accept this. I do not need to feel guilty or pressured. I know that as soon as I "commit" to any of these plans or hopes, I want to run a mile in the opposite direction. You see, I find commitment really difficult. I am not close friends with responsibility, commitment or discipline. Does this make me immature? Does it make me lazy? Or is it just a part of my personality?

The truth is, I don't actually know. But, what I do know is that Jesus came to give me "life and life to the full". He came to set me free. I know that when I tell myself to do something or "resolve" to change, I do not feel "free". I feel stuck, limited and pinned-down. When I convince myself to "do better", my feelings cause me to fail.

I have often been involved with things that I find very difficult - leading a cell group, doing a desk job, co-ordinating an event, working with children. I have felt terribly guilty that I have not enjoyed these things. I have told myself that a good, Christian woman should be able to do these things, even if they are not enjoyable. If I am "stretched", even if it hurts, this must be a good thing, as I am learning, trying, working, striving. I know that I am not alone in thinking like this.

A precious friend of mine was recently encouraged to take part in something that she dreaded, found boring and felt uncomfortable with. Her encourager said to her, "It's not about what you want to do...it's about what you should do." I understand that in life, some things do us good. I understand that God is my Father, my Parent and that discipline is part of Parenting. But does my Father want me to feel under pressure and stressed? Does He want me to be useless or useful? I am much more useful when I feel happy. I am much more useful where I know what I'm doing and I actually enjoy it.

So, this year, I hope to take each day as it comes. I hope to enjoy each aspect of every day. I hope to indulge in the things that make me feel satisfied and make me feel alive and free. i hope to write, knit, sew and create. I hope to play, smile and chat. I hope to have a positive effect on the people around me. I hope to make other people feel special. I hope to have real, truthful, productive conversations with people. I hope to make new friends.

I am so thankful for the blessings of last year. Dave was made redundant and got another job. I became part of a lovely knitting group in Camberley. I spent more time with the girls in our youth group, who I desperately love. I began to spend time on my own in coffee shops, knitting and thinking...and often meeting new people. I had a wonderful two-weeks with my beautiful, crazy family in Swanage, Dorset. I camped for a week at Newday with our gorgeous young people. I made two new amazing friends, Susan and Julie. I had a the great privilege of remembering our friend Ian, in Cornwall, where I met his friends, laughed and cried with Ya, his wife and my precious friend and learnt to body board.

But I do not want to look back or forward. I want to just look and appreciate - the trees, the snow, the sunshine, the rain. Yarn, fabric, colour and sparkle. Smiles, laughs, shouts and songs.

I am thankful for a new day, with new possibilities. Another day with my husband and children, making a difference, and enjoying all that God had given me.