St Valentine's Day

"Happy Valentine's Day!!!" The hustle and bustle of a Sunday morning began with my three young children singing to us, laden with bowls of milk-soggy Bran Flakes. "I love you, Mummy," said my daughter as she handed mine to me. "Want a kiss!" said my littlest son, with a cheerio stuck to his cheek, his arms outstretched. "We made you breakfast. Hope you like it," said my eldest.

Dave and I turned to each other, going in for a kiss and then remembering the plague of morning breath. No snogs this morning - just a little married "peck"!!! We gave cards and gifts to each other, smiled, snuggled and then Dave dutifully made his way down stairs to inspect the result of the breakfast-making process.

I lay in bed, watching my new Cosby Show DVD - clever husband - watching the Huxtable Family "doing life" together. As I watched Cliff, the father, calling out to his kids and telling them off for mess, noise and arguing, I heard it echoed in my own house by my husband and children. "He pushed me!!!" "I did not!!" "Yes you did!!"

On the way to church this morning, we prayed for the Mackay Family. Karena, "a magnificant wife and exceptional mum" died on Friday night. After a year of battling with cancer, she has now gone to be with her Saviour in Heaven, leaving behind a devoted husband and three lovely children. When we prayed this morning, we asked God to bless them and rest on them, on this, the first Valentines Day without Karena.

At church, Mark preached on God's healing power. I couldn't help but think of Karena and wonder why God had not healed her. I thought of my beautiful friend, who has just been diagnosed with cancer. Dave and I prayed earnesly for her healing, sensing that God had heard and would answer.

I observed new couples holding hands, spoke to long-married couples planning a weekend away, saw my gorgeous single friend shine with kindness and peace, and I watched as my nine-year-old madly-in-love son open a card and gift from his "girlfriend", after handing the same to her.

Valentines Day is a funny old day. For some it brings utmost joy, for others, deep sadness as they are reminded that they do not have a "Valentine", or that they are not someone else's. It produces tremendous revenue for card and flower sellers. I could go on about the whole "commercialism thing", but to be honest, I LOVE red roses, chocolates, balloons, presents and surprises. I am a total sucker for it. As I write, my husband is cooking our Valentine's Day Dinner which we will eat whilst watching a chick flick...bless his patience!!! But what I love even more, are the unplanned moments that Dave and I share. I love laughing with him and our kids. I love those unexpected cuddles that my kids give me. I love the little pictures, cards and noted that the kids leave around for us.

I love my friends and the funny stories they tell me. I love it when my friends let me into their world, with all its twists and turns. I love their vunerability and honesty. I love the opportunity to listen, serve and love.

Every day should be Valentine's Day. I read a bit about St Valentine. The truth is, "he" is actually "them" - a group of martyrs who are celebrated on the same day. One of them is said to have been martyred for conducting marriage ceremonies, another martyred for attempting to share the love of God with an Emperor. So, basically, sharing love was "St Valentine's" crime.

It sounds pretty "hippy", but sharing love is what Valentine's Day is all about. There is much we can do to share love - words, actions, gifts, letters, hugs, kisses and giving our time, but for me, it's the kind of love shown that is important. Love should be unconditional - no matter what I look like, or what I say or do. It should be faithful - unchanging, unrelenting and everlasting. I want a love that is loyal - not half-hearted or unreliable, and a love that is real - honest, open, facing difficulties as well as times of fun, laughter and peace.

I have only ever found one love like this - the love of God. He's waiting. He already loving you, he just needs you to ask. Will this be the best Valentine's Day yet? It's up to you, really. xxx

"Precious"...really?

I've just returned from a great anniversary weekend away with my lovely husband, Dave. We whisked ourselves away from our home and kids (both being supervised by "The In-Laws") and made our short journey to Winchester. On the way, in the car, we chatted and munched cheesy croissants and sipped lattes...well, I did, anyway...and began to relax. We were unexpectedly able to check in four hours early and then we meandered down to the city centre for a pootle and some lunch. We popped in and out of little shoe shops and home ware stores before heading to a 1950s-style American diner for Hamburger, Frings (fries and onion rings) and a chocolate malt...mmm.

We returned to the hotel for the evening and after some R&R, ate out at a Chinese restaurant for dinner. We walked, talked and laughed, arm-in-arm along the streets of Winchester, the cold wind blowing towards us, yet ignored. We have been truly happy this weekend.

In fact, we are truly happy together most of the time. Like all marriages, we have had times of feeling cross and irritated by each other. There have been moments of conflict and disagreement, as well as times when we have felt isolated from each other. Through these times though, I have been daily reminded by Dave, that he loves me and that I am precious to him. Even though I have not always believed him, I cannot remember a day when Dave did not tell me that I was beautiful, funny or gorgeous. I am a very blessed woman.

Dave loves film, and so our times together have often involved cinema. This weekend was no exception. We went along to the Everyman Cinema in Winchester and sat ourselves down to watch Oscar-nominated film, "Precious".

I knew from the reviews that Dave had shown me, and from the trailers that I had seen, that this was going to be pretty harrowing. I did not realise quite how graphic and disturbing it would be.

"Precious" is based on a true story of a 16-year-old single mother, pregnant with her second child, living with her physically and sexually abusive mother. Her first child and her expected child are both products of rape, Precious' own father being the perpetrator. Her first child, born with Downs Syndrome is, mercifully, living with Precious' grandmother, and is kept from Precious, except for times when Social Services visit, and Precious' mother is asking for more benefit money.

Precious' desperate and determined battle to continue her education, to learn to read and write, and to free herself from her terrible home set-up, is the narrative of the film. I'm not a film critic, and I shan't attempt to tell the story, but I have not stopped thinking about what I saw, how it made me feel and the thoughts and reactions in me that it provoked.

To see Precious and her two small children suffer so horrendously, at the hands of her mother and father made me feel physically sick. I cried and cried, at times sobbing into my scarf. Could it be possible that children are suffering like this right now? Children in our world, in my town? Could any of my students have suffered in this way? Did I miss it? When a girl confided in me that she was suffering at the hands of a family member, did I do enough? When her parents decided not to press charges, should I have pushed things further? Did she continue to suffer? Where is she now? Is she okay?

In the film, when Precious' mother finally admits to the abuse that she had inflicted on her daughter, she is asked how it started. She speaks of her boyfriend's open abuse of their daughter, and of the rejection she felt, with her husband choosing their daughter (and not her) for his own satisfaction. She offers this as an explanation for her anger and subsequent abuse of Precious from the age of 3.

How could a woman allow her baby to be misused and hurt in this way? How could this Woman then go on to hurt that baby even more? Clearly, the mother in this story was very confused and in need of medical help, but she was also a victim - of a man making a choice. This man made a choice to hurt and ruin two "precious" human beings. He chose to satisfy himself, no matter what the cost would be. He killed the hopes and dreams of a mother and her child. He ruined a woman's self-esteem, sanity, and her relationship with her daughter. She, in turn, ruined her daughter's chance of ever feeling "precious".

"No-one has ever loved me," Precious cried as she finally opened up to her class and teacher. As she spoke these words, I cried and cried, knowing full-well that many feel this way. Many have experienced the wounds of verbal, physical, mental and sexual abuse. Many feel that no-one has ever loved them. We are told in the Bible that God loves us. His love for us is so strong, that He has made a way for us to be in relationship with Him. He sacrificed His own son for us.

Recently I read some amazing poetry, raw and honest, written by victim of abuse. The poet asked, "Where were you?" I should think that Precious felt the same - "Where were you, God? When I was frightened and hurting, where were you? Why did you not stop this from happening? When I could not ask for help, where were you? As I gave birth to my first child, on the kitchen floor, with my mother kicking my head, where were you?"

After watching the film, Dave and returned home to our precious children. We hugged them, kissed them, tickled them and told them how wonderful they are. I continued to think about the film, remembering scenes and sections of script. What had I learnt? How did I feel?

"Precious", as I've already mentioned, is based on a true story. These things had actually happened. Where had God been? Despite my strong faith in God and my complete trust in Him, I do not claim to understand Him. I struggle to understand suffering. As a read the blog of a great husband watching his godly wife die, I struggle to see God in it. As one of my most precious friends, a young mother of four handsome boys, receives a cancer diagnosis, I do not understand. As a great daddy is taken away from his loving kids and faithful wife, I just don't get it. I ask, "Where are you God?"

As I look out onto the light snow outside; As I watch my little son climbing inside a toy basket with a cheeky grin on his face; As I turn the heating up to make us even warmer than we already are in our cosy house; As I take my anti-depressant tablets, which I got free on the NHS; as I log on to express myself freely and share my thoughts....I realise, God is Here. He is in my light and my darkness, my day and my night. He is in the Freedom of Recovery and the Mercy of Healing. He is in the Peace of my Imagination and the Chaos of my Creativity. When I have suffered, He has waited for me.

I cannot understand why some suffer and some don't. I know that my times of suffering are insignificant compared to the lives of others. But, I find comfort in God's love.

I know that some reading this blog entry may feel angry at my ignorance. I am really sorry if I have offended anyone. But I feel that God wants many to know, that whilst our earthly parents can let us down and even damage us, we have a Heavenly Father, who loves us, cherishes us and wants to fix the damage. He wants to hold us in His loving arms and never let us go. We just have to grab on, and not let go.

I know that He says that we are all precious to Him, and I have to believe that. I am precious. We are all precious...even you.