Lent

On Tuesday evening, I stood over a smokey frying pan in my kitchen, windows and doors wide open to give the smoke alarm a break. My three children and lovely husband occasionally appeared, plate in hands, ready to receive their next pancake. Within half an hour, I was sat at the dining room table, eating my pancakes.On the table in front of me, lay the chaos of Shrove Tuesday Evening: a spoon stood upright in the tin of Lyle's Golden Syrup, an orange bottle of Reece's Peanut Butter Sauce lay on its side, open and oozing out onto the pine. Little plastic Jiff Lemon lemon-shaped bottles sat on the table-top, surrounded by random sprinkles and little piles of caster sugar, the lid of the Kilner jar of caster sugar flopped open, small pieces of pancake inside and a lemon-and-sugar coated spoon sat next to it. As I devoured my last pancake and chatted with my husband, a thought drifted in and out of my mind, "Only a few more hours of Facebook. Quick! Use the opportunity while you can! Don't miss anything!"

I'm pretty rubbish at giving anything up. There is one exception to that - exercise. I can easily give up exercise, but that's probably because I never took it up in the first place.Yep, utterly rubbish at giving stuff up...particularly food....and anything I like doing...which is basically everything I do as I rather like my life! Lent is something that my really well-behaved Anglican friends always did as we were growing up. Their efforts mainly involved things like not biting their nails, not eating chocolate and giving up TV. I didn't do Lent. In fact, I'm not sure that I have ever remained "in the Lent Zone" ever. Not even as a grown up.

But this year, I will. For a few months I have realised that I have an addiction which is interfering with my life. It takes me away from my family, my husband and God. After recently reading one of Russell Brand's books, I have considered addiction a little more. Now I'm pretty sure that my definition of addiction is somehow incorrect, but it is the one that makes sense to me. Addiction is a repeated behaviour. This repeated behaviour detrimentally affects the addicted person and their family and friends. This repeated behaviour becomes the first thought of the day, and the domitating thought until the end of the day. This repeated behaviour pushes everything else aside. It ignores precious people and their needs, and becomes selfish and relentless in its need to be satisfied.

I cannot count the number of times I have delayed conversation with my children by using the phrase "In a minute" or "I'm just in the middle of something" whilst checking the Facebook app on my mobile phone. I do not know how many times I have absent-mindedly chatted on the phone whilst staring at the laptop (on my lap), checking out somebody's holiday snaps. When I wake up in the morning, I feel a need to check Facebook. I need to see what everyone is doing, thinking, and planning that day. I need to know what is happening outside of my world. I need to connect with others, not by talking to them or even sending them a message, but just simply by knowing what they are saying.

There are very few occasions when I read anything that might be considered vital. I read complaints about children or husbands. I read reports of trips to the doctor about in-grown toenails or bad backs. I read funny anecdotes about children getting their words mixed up. I read moans about grumpy neighbours. I see photos of parties that I wasn't invited to, and that I'm grateful to have missed. I see photos of a "first lost tooth". I receive (always unwanted) invitations to play Candy Crush or whatever the current trendy (addictive) game is. I read articles about the idiocy of various politicians or celebrities. I see death announcements for much-loved actors. I look at silly photos of animals stuck in vases.

Facebook has informed me of some big stuff. Facebook told me that my friend's marriage was over. Facebook told me that the beautiful daughter of our precious friends had leukaemia. Facebook told me that one of my "youth girlies" had met the love of her life and was getting married. Facebook showed me that I wasn't alone in feeling devastating grief at the death of a beautiful young girl who I watched grow from a slightly awkward teen into a stunning, confident young woman. Facebook told me that my friend's husband had suddenly died whilst on holiday. All of these announcements were a Call To Action. They caused me to phone, pray, visit. They woke me up from my "Everything Is Awesome" slumber and shot me, like a human canonball into the Real World of other people's suffering, struggles,joys and celebrations. They made me move.

Facebook has been a great place for me to document my family. Holidays, walks in the woods, successful homeschool mornings, days at the beach, baking victories, awarded certificates, new pets, those rarely-completed DIY jobs. They've all hit Facebook and been kindly received or mercifully ignored!

I don't have a moral objection to Facebook. I don't consider myself "above" Facebook. I just need to be honest with myself. My name is Sally, and I am addicted to Facebook. I am helpless to its call. I need some time out. I need God's help. Even when I decided to blog this morning, my fingers automatically typed "www.faceboo..." I suddenly realised what I was doing and stopped myself. Even my fingers, my body, my muscles are in a habit that needs to be broken.

I guess I could give it up completely. But, I know that Facebook provides a simple solution to broad announcements of big events in the lives of people who mean a lot to me. It is a helpful way for me to remain in-the-loop. Ultimately, I love my friends and I love to be available to show love to them, to support them and to stand with them. I don't want to miss those Calls To Action. But I definitely need to reset my priorities. I need to listen and rest. I need to wonder and wander. I need to put my flippin' phone down! It's time to give it up. Just for a while.

Lent represents a time to go without and trust in God's power to sustain me. Jesus spent 40 days in the desert, going without. In that place He was introduced to Temptation. He resisted with God's power of sustenance. I'm not going with out food or water, just Facebook. I'm sure I'll be fine.

Confessions of a Homeschool Mumma

I am not a fan of Facebook. Don't get me wrong, I am completely addicted and look at it about seventy times before I've even had my breakfast, but I do not like Facebook at all. My biggest issue with Facebook is my own constant desire to announce exciting events and decisions to the world. I'm not talking about "Look at the cake I made!" or "My child is a genius!" announcements. What I'm talking about are the BIG decisions. Those decisions that are really important, life changing...and so big that the whole world knowing might not be helpful.

In June of last year, we made a BIG decision. We decided to remove our eldest child from school. After years of struggling, our son was only attending school part-time (with agreement with staff.) He and I were studying and working every morning, before the beginning of his school day which was at 11o'clock. We were rather enjoying ourselves. It was easy, peaceful and fun. And I was shocked.

After a meeting with various members of staff, and Local Authority representatives, discussing the next step for our son's education, we concluded that our only option was Homeschooling. We agreed  that staff would ensure that he had a leaving party with his closest friends towards the end of the following day, which would end his time at school.

Let me share with you some truths about homeschooling my son...

Number One - I Never Thought I Would Do This. 
 Let me be clear, for years, I have repeated the following statement, "I'm sure that I should homeschool this boy, but we'd kill each other!" My son and I have a very typical parent/teenager relationship! We argue and greatly differ in our agendas. I am a strict and protective mumma, and he is a determined and increasingly independent creative whirlwind. We are quite a team when our efforts combine, and a veritable storm when in conflict. Our time apart from each other had always been respite for me and refreshing for us both. The thought of constantly being together or even an increased amount of time together was, quite frankly, frightening.

Number Two - We Tried School. We REALLY did.
But he has always found school difficult. He even struggled at nursery. As well as some particular difficulties, he is a true individual. He thinks and feels deeply. His passion for justice and empathy for those who suffer has always set him apart from his peers. His struggles with conforming and his frustration and difficulties in grasping "banter" and sarcasm have made interacting with people his own age extremely challenging. To watch my child head off to school every day filled me with anxiety. As I left him at nursery, and then primary school, every day for 8 years, I always felt worried, knowing that no day would run smoothly. I dreaded the end-of-the-day report facial expression from the class teacher. .Secondary school was no different. I dreaded the phone call, asking me to collect my son, or informing me of his various detentions and exclusions for losing his temper with students and staff alike. School was a stressful and scary place for him. It was a place that angered him, confused him and eventually (according to the theories of his psychiatrist) led him to severe depression. Despite kind, skilled teachers and advisers giving him time, love and their focus, he was still sinking in the school environment.

Number Three - Homeschooling Is Not School at Home.
Firstly, we often are not actually at home. We have found our favourite cafes are often a great place to study. We grab a coffee or a hot chocolate, sit ourselves down in a cosy corner, get books or the laptop out and off we go! We often visit the library, grab some interesting books to read and use the computers in the library to complete research or online learning. There are many group-learning classes that my son could also attend, should he choose. As yet, he hasn't.

Secondly, "schooling" is very different from education and learning. My son has always struggled to grasp information and concepts if they are taught, sitting at a desk in a classroom setting. He has always enjoyed kinesthetic learning (learning through doing/moving.) Practical subjects like Art, Food Tech, Resistant Materials, Drama, PE have been more enjoyable, engaging and successful for him. Likewise, those great teachers that he has had over the years that have identified a need for active learning have had a great impact on him and his love of learning. Unfortunately, we are not all the same - even teachers differ in their style of working!

We have realised that we love Learning by Doing. We cook. We make. We visit places. We meet people. We read books, the newspaper and watch documentaries. We watch a film and discuss the themes, the message, the meaning. We walk and take photos. We ask each other questions. And, we Google stuff. A lot.

Number Four - We Have New Friends
So many times before homeschooling my son, like many, I despaired over the apparent "lack of socialising" opportunities for homeschooled children. Since we have begun to homeschool our son, I cannot count the number of times that we have been asked, "What about friends? Does he see anyone?" I'm afraid, he has no friends. He never sees anyone apart from his family and he is now unable to have a conversation with anyone. In fact, he has forgotten all of his words and never leaves his room...Umm...not really.

As I type, my son is serving at our local Foodbank. He serves there every Wednesday morning. After the Foodbank, he goes along to a local church's Midweek Meeting, where he shares lunch with his grandfather and approximately 40 other people and then joins in the worship and listens to the talk. He then discusses the talk with the other attendees. These people are a diverse bunch: retirees, unemployed adults, one 17 year-old homeschooled young man, adults with learning difficulties, at-home mums. He confidently converses with all of these people and has even spoken at one of the meetings, sharing his personal thoughts on faith. In December, he had his own Christmas Do - The Foodbank Team Christmas Meal. He sat with 12 retired friends, laughed and chatted and had a fantastic time. These people love him and are teaching him how adults behave. He is learning how to speak kindly and work together in a healthy environment.

Every second Friday, he attends a Home Schoolers Youth Group with about 40 other 11-18 year olds. They discuss, they play games and sports, they chat, they use the recording studio and they have special trips to the bowling alley and Laserquest.

Every Saturday, he rehearses with a local youth theatre, and every Friday night he attends our church youth group.

My son has more close friends now than ever before. He has more invitations to hang out, go places and have fun than ever before. He now can see that he is worthy of being liked and that his individuality is a strength and is admired by many. His new friends are equally as individual and, therefore, open-minded and accepting. So, he now actually likes himself.

We have met so many new people and made friends of many of them. We have been encouraged and inspired by their experiences, and by the excellent attitude and behaviour of their children. It is so good to meet children and young people who are fascinated by the world around them, thoughtful and observant of the lives of others, and truly excited about their future. Although I have met schooled children with these qualities, I have never before seen such a concentration of them as I have in the homeschooled community. It is inspiring and so very exciting.

Number Five - The Truth Is Out There
Did you know the following:
1.It is YOUR RIGHT as a parent to remove your child from school permanently.
2.Home Education is a form of private education and is entirely valid as a means of educating your child.
3.Private/independent schools are at liberty to employ untrained/unqualified teachers. It therefore makes sense that to be a home educator you do not need to be trained or qualified.
4.There is no funding available for Home Education.
5. It is not a legal requirement to follow the National Curriculum, nor to study for GCSE or A'Level exams.
6. Universities and colleges are mindful of students who have received "alternative education" and value experience and portfolios very highly.
7. There is a vast Homeschool community all over the world, connecting families with excellent resources and other families.
8. The time taken for assemblies, register, behaviour managment and teaching at differentiated levels, verses one-on-one teaching means that far less "learning time" is necessary in Home Education than in a school setting.

Number Six - My Heart and My Mind Is Changing
I am learning that:
Different does not always mean wrong.
Good does not always mean right.
Good structures have some flexibility.
Qualified does not mean employable or employed.
Childhood is for wandering and wondering.
Rushing means we miss things.
Questions are the beginning of discovery.
I REALLY like hanging out with my children.
God has a plan. He is our provider and not my husband's employer or the government. I will put my trust in Him.
Life is to be lived; not spent, endured, missed or wasted.

I'm not going to criticise anyone who chooses school for their child. I still have two children in the state school system and they are happy, progressing and doing fine. But, I feel very differently to how I felt (only months ago) about Homeschooling. For many of us, it is more than a "valid" option. It is a new, exciting and wonder-ful adventure, than I am absolutely loving.

This post is entitled "Confessions of a Homeschool Mumma". So, in conclusion, let me make my confessions...
I still get cross with my kids.
I still enjoy time on my own.
I am longing to homeschool all of my children (but will allow them to make their own decision.)
Although I am not stressed, I am definitely ready for bed by the end of the day, and I'm sleeping VERY well! It's tiring learning all day long!!
(And most importantly...)
I now have secret stashes of chocolate for emergencies.

God's song

In May, Dave and I travelled to Boston, Massachusetts, USA for a long weekend. For a few years now, we have heard God's call to us and have felt His nudges towards Boston. We rarely have spare cash, so we had asked God for the £1400 that we needed to pay for flights and expenses, and as is His way, we received an anonymous banker's draft for the exact amount, and so, we made our way over.

We loved Boston. We met with some quality church planters, chatted to local Bostonian shop keepers, wandered the streets, did the Freedom Trail, sat and prayed in Harvard Yard, ate Lobster Mac and Cheese, bought as many Boston Hoodies as we could, visited Fenway Park and walked down Yawkey Way, had a ride on the ferry, fantasised about living in the North End or the South End, indulged in beautiful cake and coffee at Thinking Cup and became hard core Red Sox and Celtics fans. Ultimately, the big thing that happened was that we fell in love. We fell in love with Boston. We are now pining for the far away city, that feels like our home. We can't wait for the time when we will visit again, and ultimately for the day when Boston becomes our actual home, our city, our very own. We can't wait to take our three children with us, to visit the city that we always talk about, and often dream about.

On the Sunday morning, we were dropped off in Back Bay. We wandered through to the South End, along the blossom tree-lined streets, listening to the birds singing, seeing dads and kids playing at the park, the beautiful tall town houses waking up all around us. As we walked towards Reality Church Boston, we agreed that it all felt very significant. We had been following the progress of Reality Boston's planting from the first announcement on Sunday 15th August 2011. It was the day before my birthday and Dave just mentioned that Reality Church, first birthed in California, was planting into Boston. We immediately began researching Boston, looking at property, search Google images for iconic Bostonian sights and felt a stirring. So began our Boston adventure. Everywhere we went, we saw Boston hoodies, caps and bags. Every conversation we had Boston, mission work and the USA seemed to come up. Our daughter had a dream that we were living in a blue and white house in Boston, and prophesies about us moving, taking risks and being obedient to God came flooding in.

When the Boston bombing took place at the Boston marathon on the 15th April in 2013, our hearts broke. We wanted to be there, to pray, to tidy up, to love people. We wanted to be part of the Boston Strong - those citizens of Boston who stood together. We wanted to be a part of Reality Church Boston and all that they would be doing in the aftermath.

So, as we walked along West Newton Street on that Sunday, expectant, full of wonder as to how it would feel, and whether it would be a special and significant time, I could feel the importance of what we were doing and what might happen.

Tiny things make a big difference, don't they? It's those tiny, apparently insignificant things that make our tummies turn, and our hearts sing. For me, it began with a big jug of Half-and-Half. I had searched for Half-and-Half all weekend. I wanted to try some in my coffee. I hadn't seen any...until we walked through the doors where Reality Boston meet. We were directed to a coffee point, with a big jug of Half-and-Half sat there - just for me. My heart sang.

The service was full. Full of our Father God. Full of Jesus. Full of the Holy Spirit. We worshipped together, led by a true worshipper, with a beautiful, soul-deep voice, accompanied by strings. It was Mother's Day in the US that day. All mothers were invited to stand, where we were prayed for and honoured. I felt empowered and ready to return to my precious babies, equipped by those prayers. We were read the word of God, and replied together with a "Thanks be to God". The sermon was like a full roast dinner, with all the trimmings, followed by rhubarb crumble and custard for pudding - satisfying, deep, juicy and delicious. After the sermon, we were called to worship our God again, take communion, kneel or lay down, or receive prayer from the ministry team. It was wonderful. It felt like home. Reality Boston will be our home church one day, hopefully soon.

I took something home with me that day. We took a lot of things home from Boston that weekend, in fact. When we left Boston, our suitcases were definitely much heavier than they had been on the way there. We brought home hoodies and t-shirts for our kids, aprons and mugs for my parents, sweeties (or should I say candies?!) and chocolate. It goes without saying that I had to bring home Twinkies for my little bro, as well as coffee creamer, and a new Thinking Cup cup (!) for me. Every now and then Dave puts on his Boston Bruins top and we smile.

These things were all lovely things to bring home, but, the coffee creamer has now run out. I only have three Hershey's Kisses left and the Twinkies were demolished within a few days of our return. But one thing has remained with me.

When Al Abdullah spoke on Sunday morning, he urged us to turn up the volume of God's Song. He challenged us to listen to God's Song, God's voice, above all things. He told us of the times when we allow other songs to be louder than God's Song. Maybe we listen to the "I'm Still Single" Song, or even the "My Job Sucks" Song. Perhaps all we can hear is the "I Am So Worried About How My Kids Will Turn Out" Song or even the "When Will I Get All The Appreciation I Deserve?" Song. All the other songs are playing so loudly and God's song has been turned down so much, that we can't hear God's Song or his voice at all. We can't hear His voice, His truth at all. Sometimes, we hear a small murmur of truth - He loves us, He is all-powerful, He is our Healer, He will never Leave us, He has a perfect plan, He is good, He has the victory - and we turn it down more, in favour of listening to the other songs.

Since we returned from our weekend in Boston, our lives have drastically changed. Life does that. We're rarely ready for change, but God is. I have struggled at times, to keep God's Song the loudest. But I am amazed by the power of God, by His love, by His equipping of our family and by His goodness. It has been a challenging time, but God's beautiful, powerful, peace-making Song is seeing me through. As I parent my kids, dealing with my own imperfections as well as theirs, I can hear God's Song reminding me that He will complete the transforming work that He is doing in us. As Dave and I try to ride the storm of the financial state of our world, God's Song whispers promises of His provision for us. As I move forward in our women's ministry at church, I dance to the beat of God's amazing Song, which transforms, releases and empowers His daughters as we gather together to worship Him and share our stories of all He has done in us. And as we wait on God for the next step in our journey towards Boston, His Song gives me peace that He will direct our paths and make a way, and that we need not have any anxieties, because His Kingdom is coming .and we will be a part of it.



 

Healing

This week, Dave and I were chatting with our Pastor, who encouraged me to write this post.

In November 2008, my daughter celebrated her 5th birthday. My eldest son was 8, and my youngest son, 2. I was living life as most mums do; rushing from school to nursery, trying to get washing done, doing food shopping, cooking, trying not to put on weight, trying to keep my spending under control, managing friendships (my kids' and my own) and also doing the things that Christian mums do; serving with Mums and Toddlers, ministry at church, standing alongside others in crisis or in celebration. I had definitely said "yes" more than "no" and so I had given others the impression that whatever they threw at me, I could handle.

I've always enjoyed hosting my children's birthday parties, and this year was no exception. I'd made the invitations, baked the cake, put together the party bags, planned (and organised) the party games and cooked and served the party tea. Whilst extra guests (family, parents of kids at the party and friends) sat around and enjoyed their drinks and snacks, I ran around like a crazed lunatic, serving everyone and making everything happen. This was a Saturday. By Monday, I was completely exhausted. I dropped the kids at school and nursery, and drove myself and Seth to my mum's house.

I remember sitting on her stairs and crying. I was constantly tired and needing daytimes sleeps. I was very easily angered and often shouted at the kids. I would frequently find myself in floods of tears, sat on the kitchen floor, unable to complete the many different tasks that I'd started that day. I felt constantly guilty, that my poor hard-working husband was having to arrive home to a messy, chaotic house and a stressed and unhappy wife. Despite feeling unable to get housework done, I was still agreeing to attend various meetings, help friends with their kids and housework, and get involved in more and more events at church.

My mum told me to go to my GP. I called, was miraculously given an appointment straight away, and made my way in my car to the doctor. As I walked into his office, I felt heavy and weighed down. My movement felt slow and yet everything around me felt fast, loud and too bright. I started to tell him how I was angry and losing my temper with my children. I told him how I felt a total lack of motivation to do anything fun. I told him how lonely I felt, and how I felt that I had no friends left.

He told me that I had depression. He told me that I needed medication. He gave me a questionnaire to fill in. He prayed with me - my lovely GP (now retired), who is a Christian, knew I was also.

I filled in the questionnaire. I was shocked by one question - "Have you ever thought about ending your life?" Shocking! What a question! "Of course not!" was my initial response. And then I remembered...or maybe I just admitted to myself...The times when my children would chatter away in the back of the car. I would zone out of their words and hear only a humming noise. I would suddenly find myself thinking, "I could just not turn the steering wheel at the next corner. I could keep driving forwards. I could go into that tree." As the corner came, I would always turn the steering wheel, the thought would pass and I would realise my driving had slowed to a crawl. So...yes, I had thought about ending my life. Yes.

As I left the doctor, prescription in hand, I took out my mobile phone and called Dave. First of all I said "sorry". I felt so guilty. This man had married a funny, lively, easy-going girl, full of energy and promise. Now, she had turned into a miserable, tired, lazy woman, who had let herself go...or at least that's how I felt. He was kind, gentle and encouraging in his response...and this never changed.

That evening, Dave and I talked about the diagnosis. He told me to take all the rest I needed. He told me to completely forget about housework, church responsibilities and food shopping. I agreed that I could cope with the school run, and that I would ask for help when I felt unable. Again, I agreed to cook, but ask for help when needed. I also agreed to sleep as much as I needed to. Dave prayed with me, asking God to heal me. I suddenly had a very clear thought - Healing would not come straight away. Healing would come, but not straight away. God had heard my prayer and would bring healing, but if He gave it immediately, I would not learn anything, and there would be no testimony. I felt God clearly tell me that this depression was for a reason and that my experience and my ultimate healing would be a wonderful story, a testimony to be shared.

And so, my journey with Depression had officially began. My medical notes had documented a "Depressive Episode" and I was prescribed Fluoxetine tablets, two to be taken daily. My doctor recommended regular exercise, rest and an online Cognitive Behavioural Therapy programme called MoodGym. I told people that I had depression. I had two kinds of responses:

Response #1 - "You? Not you, Sal! You're such a happy person! You're so confident! You? Oh dear!"
Response #2 - "Me too! What tablets are you taking?"

With out exception, all who offered me Response #2, were people like me - involved in lots of stuff, lively, fun, sociable and, usually, creative in some way. I was shocked to learn how many people had experienced or were experiencing depression. I was shocked at how many people were taking medication. I was especially shocked as I would never had guessed that those people were depressed.

I learnt that Depression was a physical illness. I learnt that it was caused by physical things and had extremely physical symptoms. I didn't expect that at all. I realised that was had been called depression was actually my body saying, "No more! I can't keep going! I am officially on strike!" My body had had enough.

I remember one day soon after my first visit to the GP, I had a very odd experience. It was about 4pm and a school day. I had collected the kids from school and come home. I was freezing cold and I couldn't warm up. I slowly climbed the stairs (everything was done slowly) and run the bath. With the kids playing around me, I climbed into the bath and sat in the warm water. I didn't move. I didn't lay down or stretch my legs out. I held my knees up to my chin and sat there in silence. After a while (I'm not sure how long as my time perception was way off) I hoisted myself up and climbed over the side of the bath. I wrapped myself in a towel and, exhausted from the endeavour, I sat down on the closed toilet seat. As I sat there, I suddenly realised that I couldn't remember how to stand up. It was like my body couldn't hear my brain thinking, "Time to stand up now." I don't know how I sat there, but eventually, I stood up and walked into my bedroom.

I recall a concerned email from a friend who had received an email from me that didn't make any sense. My brain could not send the right message to my hands. As I typed, I had missed letters and words, resulting in an incomprehensible message. My handwriting also suffered. Suddenly it was messy, and my grip on pens and pencils was much looser. I also found reading impossible. A few people had given me books to read about depression, but I couldn't take in the information. I would read the same sentence again and again, but would absorb no information at all.

Nothing was enjoyable. When the snow fell that Winter, I didn't catch flakes on my tongue with the kids. Dave took them out to go sledging and I stayed home and made hot chocolate. Usually, I'd be bursting with excitement, but now? Nothing.

Some friends seemed unable to understand or deal with the depressed version of me. I had felt paranoid and lonely for a while. Now I understood why. Some friends backed off, but they were definitely the minority. Most of my friends were kind, helpful and moved towards me, ready to support. But I still felt very lonely. I felt like I was a burden to other people and so I pulled the shutters down and hid. I didn't have many Duvet Days, but I stayed at home or sat at my mum's house. She noticed that I was very quiet. I felt like I had run out of words...not my usual state at all! It was easier to hide from people than to feel disliked and "tolerated".

As much as I loved my church and had been so very blessed by so many people there, for reasons completely unrelated to my health, we decided to move to a new church. When we arrived at our new church, The Beacon Church, in Camberley, I felt it important to be really honest about my depression. During our membership interview with our pastor, Mark and his wife , Bev, I laid my cards on the table, "I need to be honest with you. You should know that I have depression."
"You should know that it's not an issue for us, " replied Mark, "I read two kind of books - books about leadership and books about depression. Rest when you need to, serve when you can. Your illness will not hold you back and we are not nervous about it." Minutes later, Bev asked me if I would like to preach at the next Ladies' Day. To be understood and released to make a contribution in the same conversation was amazing. From that point, it was Onwards and Upwards.

I met with a wonderful counsellor, Julie Sussex who leads our Pastoral Team at the Beacon. We talked about my family, my marriage, my illness and my coping mechanisms. Julie listened and helped me to order my thinking. She spoke to me about the guilt I was feeling. She spoke to me about my reticence to ask for help. She encouraged me to reach out and told me that I wasn't an "extra-Grace" person (someone who required a lot of patience) or a burden. I started to believe that what she was saying was true. It was safe or me to be honest and to ask for help. It was good to lean on a trusted friend and it was essential for me to say "no" to people and to say it without guilt. I wasn't letting anyone down, I was, in fact, helping myself, helping my family and helping those who asked too much of me. I began to believe, and I began to say "no".

Over the following five years, I continued to take my medication, avoid exercise like the plague, (well, I was still essential me...) and experience bouts of depression. I began to listen to my body and identify when I was feeling "poorly" and I need of some time out. During this time, Dave and I had been asked to lead the Youth team in our church, and so I did miss a few evenings. I also would remain at home in bed on some Sunday mornings. Although I knew that church did me good, I knew that on those mornings, I needed to sleep in the quiet of an empty house, and that God's grace towards me meant that I didn't HAVE to do anything other than rest in Him. After pregnancy, I'd not been a big drinker at all, but even the occasional gin and tonic would affect my mood significantly for days afterwards, and so I decided to avoid alcohol altogether. I saw Julie every now and then, and although my natural tendancy was to hide away when depression hit, I tried hard to reach out, sometimes sending texts to trusted friends, asking for prayer. I spoke to my children about my illness, explain why I was so often tired and emotional. They seemed to understand, and although they certainly didn't walk on egg shells or behave perfectly, they were sensitive, cuddly and most importantly for me, they didn't seem to worry about why Mummy was so often a messy heap on the floor.

In the years that followed a few things stand out as significant moments. Eighteen months after my initial diagnosis, Dave and I attended a youth leaders' training weekend. In one meeting, during the worship, I felt a strong sense of peace. I felt like God was close by. Those who were sensing His presence were invited forward. I went forward and stood at the front of everyone, quietly closed my eyes and opened my hands out. Suddenly something started building in me. I started to laugh. At first, it was a smile, then a little giggle, and eventually, a loud, raucous belly laugh. As I laughed, tears ran down my face and I was bent double, unable to stand with the strength of the laugh. It was deeply embarrassing walking back to my seat, and, in fact, for the rest of the weekend! Despite the embarrassment, I felt happy. I hadn't felt happy for a long time. It was amazing to me to think that I had laughed so much.  It was like God had restored eighteen moths without laughter, in a brief moment. I remembered a verse that I have known since I was a child, but had never really understood fully until that moment,

"I will restore the years that the locust has eaten."

Later that weekend, I had a picture. As I closed my eyes, I saw a beautiful sunset. God told me that My healing would be like a sunset. When we watch a sunset, although we are waiting for the moment when the sun pops beneath the horizon, we still enjoy its journey. The beautiful colours and shapes of the cloud, the silhouettes of birds flying across it, the gradual movement. It's all so beautiful, and we all want to watch it, photograph it and share the photos with everyone on Facebook. God said that my healing would be the same - That it would be gradual, and it would be beautiful, and it would be watched by others.

About a year later, in a prayer meeting at a Leader's Day, a friend prayed over me. She prayed that "the hold of depression" would be lifted. Although I was not always depressed, I always had a niggling fear of when the next bout would be. After this prayer, I felt the fear lift. I knew that I was not healed completely, and that another bout would come, but I was no longer fearful of it coming. It was like the fear of depression had no hold over me anymore

Christmas has always been my favourite time of year. But it was always stressful. I had been prescribed Diazepam, a powerful muscle relaxant, for stress one year. It really helped me to rest and then sleep in the evenings, which made Christmas much more enjoyable for all of us.

Christmas 2012 arrived. For a couple years before, I had made the decision to fully engage with my family during advent. I wanted to enjoy the whole Christmas season, and not just work myself into depression for the sake of one day only. So, we began to celebrate each day with a special Christmas Job. Each day was different; reading Christmas books, watching Christmas movies, baking tasty treats, singing Christmas Carols, writing Christmas cards, enjoying school events - all together. Christmas 2012 was the same. A new tradition of the Christmas Cinema Trip was included, and we enjoyed our usual fun traditions and jobs. But this year, I forgot to get stressed. I said "no". A lot. I made my intentions clear to others. My family was my priority for the whole of December. My stress didn't arrive. Neither did the doses of Diazepam.

Christmas came and went. and 2013 began. Snow fell and I loved it. I went slegding with my family and had a snowball fight. I felt face-first into a deep pile of fluffy snow, rolled onto my back and laughed and laughed.Whenever the sun shined, I closed my eyes and tilted my head towards it's brightness. I soaked up as much Vitamin D as possible.

It wasn't until March that I realised that I hadn't taken any of my tablets since just before Christmas. I had simply forgotten to take them. I hadn't taken any at all. And I felt better. I didn't feel tired. I had stopped having afternoon sleeps. I hadn't retreated to my bed or hidden myself away. I didn't feel depressed. I remember telling Dave and being worried that he'd be cross with me for not taking my medication. He wasn't. He just said, in his calm, and yet completely excited way, "Wow...that's interesting..."

At the end of April, this year, our church met for ten days of prayer and fasting. I loved it! Spending time with with God was satisfying something deep inside of me. I heard His voice clearly during those ten days and I finally felt able to say, out loud, what I had felt since March...that God had healed me from depression. It felt scary, saying it out loud. What if I wasn't healed? What if it came back? What if I had to go back to taking medication? What if I had a rubbish day? Would everyone think less of me? Would I seem like a fraud?

The truth is, I get fed up. I still shout at my kids sometimes. I still get cross and disappointed and I still feel lonely sometimes. But, now, it doesn't last. Now, I can remind myself of the truth of my situation and I can lift my eyes to The One who helps me. I can get up, I can read a book, I can write clearly....mostly....and I don't have depression anymore. I do not feel afraid of it returning, because if it did, I know that God would never leave my side.

Healing came. It is beautiful. I am most definitely healed. Thank you Lord!


 

Gosh, it's been so long. So long, in fact, I'm expecting my laptop to auto-correct just like my phone. This is our new laptop. Our old one was partially melted (our son decided to check out YouTube whilst sitting right in front of our fireplace...when lit) and then dropped...by me.
The poorly laptop wasn't the only reason that I stopped writing. I'd just had enough. Enough of the whole "out there" thing. Facebook, Twitter, blogging, writing...it's all so exposing, and I'd just had enough of exposing myself, so to speak...
Who really cares what I think anyway? Why does my opinion need to be heard? Will it have any impact? Probably not, to be honest. But is that why I write? Do I want to change the world, or do I want to merely think out loud?
For years, I've been toying with the idea of writing a book. I have actually started two. One was being written with my husband. It was all about our journey. I used to be a single mum and when we met, he was a free and single bloke. Our journey of getting together, engaged, married and further sprogged-up has been as interesting as anyone else's journey.  We wondered if others in the same boat might benefit from learning through our mistakes and experiences, and if writing a book might be a good way to encourage both new dads and single mums. So, we gave it a go. We wrote about five chapters. Then we stopped. Dave then started writing a novel, and I started to write another book. This time, my book was an attempt to formulate my blogging into something tangible...parenting, creativity, school life, economy living, bla bla bla. It was flowing pretty well and the feedback was encouraging. But then it stopped.
I have a wonderful friend, who is one of my adopted big sisters. She lives in Singapore, and so we are far away from each other. Whenever she pops over to Old Blighty, we sit, chat, drink coffee and eventually get round to praying together. I had emailed the second book (half-complete) to her, after her having read the first book (also half-complete), and she came back to me with her thoughts..

"Who are you influencing?" she asked me. "Who are you influencing?" She urged me to return to the first book - our journey, our story. "Someone needs to hear your story, Sally," she said.

Her words have remained with me. As I drive around, "who are you influencing?" As I clean my house, "who are you influencing?" As I interact with my children, in times of conflict, play and grief, "who are you influencing?" As our old laptop crashed, and I lost the whole nine chapters of the second book, "who are you influencing?" As I returned to worship leading, after a five year break, "who are you influencing?" As I sit in front of this new laptop, blogging again, "who are you influencing?"

The truth is, when we expose ourselves, whether it be online, in public, on a stage, or in front of our children, we are influencing others. When we tell everyone our opinions on how we should conduct our lives, we are influencing others. When we have friends who value our opinions, and they listen/read what we say/write, we are influencing others. Writing a book could have no impact at all...or it could heavily influence someone. My funny little blog posts can hurt, wound, uplift or shape...just about anyone...and I have absolutely no control over how it all pans out.

The truth is, I am not a fan of responsibility. I don't really like being a grown-up. And although I tend to be a bossy boots, I don't enjoy the responsibility of leadership. Many times, I have stepped back from opportunities to lead, because it all feels like too big a responsibility. It all feels very scary. Because it actually is scary. Having been a teacher for a few years, and then having met my former students who are now adults, I have realised how much I have influenced others, and not always for the better. It is extremely easy to say or do the wrong thing. It is utterly impossible to control the way that my actions or words are received by others.

My words (and yours) can shape, hurt, destroy and irritate. That's why I struggle to write. I have read lots of blogs, books and Facebook posts. Most of us have. Some blogs are funny or moving, some books are original and inspiring, and some Facebook posts are challenging and genuinely fascinating. But most of it is not. I have read many books, but only a few have changed me. Occasionally, I read a blog post that brings me to tears, or makes me laugh, but have they changed me? Having said that, I love to read the posts of precious friends, especially if they are on a specific adventure or have an amazing story to tell - read EllieSpeaks (recommended to the left!! She is gorgeous and SO interesting!! What an amazing girl!! - there are others, but I'm not savvy enough to do the link-up thing!) Facebook posts either irritate me, make me momentarily giggle or merely fly straight passed my tired, numbed-to-the-word-vomit eyes and right over my head. And so...I guess what I'm saying is that I'd rather shut up. There are enough people writing out there! I'd rather reduce the noise slightly...and the potential collateral damage. Maybe I shouldn't have written this.

Jumbleberry Crumble

Recently, as I often do, I was watching Food UK (a TV channel devoted to cooking, baking and restaurant-related programmes.) I was enjoying an episode of one of the Nigella Lawson series, either Nigella Kitchen or Nigella Express. She was demonstrating a jam recipe called Jumbleberry Jam. I was taken with the name. There are certain words that I really love. These words make me smile and look out of my window into the garden, smiling about all that is good in life. They are cosy words. Words like "snuggle", "cobbler", "squishy", "rosey", "sandwich" and "jumble".  The word "Jumble" seems innocent and old-fashioned. It reminds me of my Nanny Pocock (my dad's mum) who was rather partial to Jumble Sales. It also reminds me of a book that I loved to read as a child. Topsy and and Tim books were among my favourites. One story saw Topsy and Tim visit the library. Whilst their mummy looked for her book, Topsy and Tim looked around. In the children's section, they noticed that all of the books looked "jumbled up". So they decided to tidy them up. All of the big books together, and all of the little books together. Ah yes, that looked much better, not at all jumbled up anymore. That was what they thought, until their mummy came over, and explained that, in fact, they had not been jumbled up at all. They were in a special order, called "Alphabetical Order", and that because Topsy and Tim had moved the books, they were now far more jumbled up than before!

Jumble. It's a lovely word. Jumble. When I was little there were times when I felt a bit jumbled. Maybe I was worried or tired. But I couldn't quite explain my feelings by any other way than describing them as "jumbled."

I'm feeling rather jumbled this evening too. My blog is not something I write often enough to be a hobby, but I do feel obliged every now and then to write something. The problem I have is that I can only write when I have something to say. Sometimes I have nothing to say, and then sometimes I have too much to say. Tonight I have a fair bit to say, but I wonder if anyone is really that interested, because, very little of it is that interesting. So...I'll go to my "go to" for when I'm feeling a bit jumbled. The trusty old list....

Things That I am Considering/Experiencing At The Moment

1. Loaf Cakes....I am making a lot of them. Sticky Ginger Cake, Golden Syrup Cake, Lemon Drizzle Cake, Banana Loaf. A cake in a loaf shape satisfies me intensely. I feel like an amazing 1950s domestic goddess who is enjoying a life of rationing and traditional British living...don't know why...I just do.

2. Teeth...My littlest lost his first tooth, and therefore received his first teeny letter and 20p piece from the Tooth Fairy. Seth's is called Felix Featherleaf. Indy's is called Florence Fern. Roo's is called Fernando Foxglove. They all receive letters and shiny pennies or 20p pieces every time they lose a tooth. Indy has today had a mini brace called a spacer fitted at the dentist. She will eventually need a massive load of orthodontic treatment, as will Roo, who recently lost another molar which was pretty messy...eeeeew.

3. Crochet. I have a beautiful and extremely brave friend, Emma, who excellently parents two lovely little boys, en seule. ( I have to say somethings in French when I talk about Emma. Along with another friend, who is also called Emma, we often speak French to each other as we are very posh, intelligent and European.) ANYWAY...Emma showed me a photo of a rather smashing crochet blanket, which I have developed an obsession for. I have, therefore, been crocheting, and even dreaming in crochet, in an attempt to work out exactly how to make it. I love crocheting, but it makes my forefinger ache...so....yeah.

4. (Almost) Teenage Nightmares. I've got one. He is one. Nothing more to share, other than that I have worked with teenagers for about 15 years now, both as a teacher and a youth leader. I have always found teenagers to be so much fun, so interesting and so lovely. I think mainly because they have always thought me pretty cool, funny and worthy of their time. My own (almost) teenager, however, thinks I am the biggest loser there is. So that's fun.

5. Money. Or lack thereof. We got to Day 3 of January (January 3rd, nonetheless) and discovered that there were no funds available. We got cross, scared and cried a bit. Then two kind and generous friends handed us cheques; one for £30 and one for £1000. And that, my friends, is what God does. We act irresponsibly, we blame God for it, and he bails us out. Grace - an undeserved gift of love. He is Grace.

6. Snow. I know it irritates many. I like it. I don't mind driving in it. I quite like playing in it. I LOVE staying home from work or school because of it. I also love to look at it, over a steaming cup of tea, from my sofa, with the fire on and my feet in slippers. I do not like the challenge it presents to homeless people, the emergency services, elderly folks and my best friend organising her son's 10th Birthday party (poor Josh...) So, it snowed, then it stopped, then it snowed again. It would be so fun and greatly appreciated if Christmas Eve 2013 would be the next snowy day, please God. Fanks.

7. Weight Watchers. I 've lost 14 lbs - a whole stone. But I am struggling with saying "no" to cake at the moment...Please pray for me, dear friends. This could be my year, but I need a kick up the bum to keep going!!! I do have a secret weapon...but more of that as I progress....

Crumble

Okay, so I have crumbled slightly over the last few weeks. I have cried, shouted, and I even broke an old dining room chair leg....I have felt sad, cross, worried, frustrated and hopeless. I guess that's depression for you. But I also guess that it could be described as being overwhelmed. Life is full...of blessings and complications. I have much to be grateful for. But being a creative mind, means that my thinking is often jumbled and my brain is full. I want to make, to walk, to run away, to stay and cuddle, to shop, to write, to drink coffee, to bake, to draw, to organise, to sew, to clean, to stop.

When this much stuff is a possibility, I am at great risk of crumbling. This post is pretty jumbled, and I'm sure that I've shown my hand in terms of where I am at the moment. I'm okay. I'm pretty happy. I do feel a bit jumbled...but the jumble can be beautiful. And, as Topsy and Tim discovered, sometimes jumbled is the way it's supposed to be.


 

The other day, a friend asked me why I blog. My reply was that I usually get a "bee in my bonnet" about something, feel ready to burst and then have no choice but to get in "out there" somehow. This post is not really like that, though. This post is more of a response to a few requests for ideas.

My blog is called "Homemade Sal" and sometimes I wonder if I should be posting more about what I'm making. I have assumed it to be a bit boring, so I've not tended to do it much so far, but hopefully this will be helpful in giving some ideas to people who might want some....

Autumn seems to be my "New Start" Season. With the dark nights, I tend to sleep more, eat more and stay in more, but I also really notice the change in seasons so much more than with the other seasons, and so "new" seems inevitable. I go clothes shopping (something that I avoid as much as possible) in a desperate search for woolly tights, cosy boots, snoods and scarves, and soft cardigans. I cook more cosy food like casseroles and soups, make bread, cookies and cakes, and finish off my jam-making from my late-Summer foraging. I notice the dust and dirt in the house more, and so I start cleaning like a mental woman, and I love a good Bin Liner Session in each room where broken toys, ripped books, and grown-out of clothes get sorted into recycle/rubbish tip bags. I also tend to begin to focus on Christmas preparation, and my shopping begins in earnest, hiding bags in random unreachable places, in an attempt to make our money stretch whilst still keeping surprises for the kids.

In this New Start Season, I try to make some changes. I really enjoy meal-planning (I know, it's so sad) and I thought I'd share my new plans in this post. In order to load my kids up with good food for the flu season, I have decided to include some big, hearty dishes to our mealtimes, replacing the salad and jacket potatoes of the Summer. And I love to try new recipes...So, this is how it's working at the moment...

On Mondays we have homemade soup and bread. So far, we've had Tomato & Basil, Beetroot, Leek & Potato, and Chicken Noodle. Not all popular, but I felt very smug.

On Tuesdays we have a pasta dish of some kind. Tuna Pasta Bake, Spaghetti Bolognaise, Cheese and Broccoli Pasta Bake. The kids LOVE pasta, especially my eldest son who, at 12 years old, is growing like crazy!

On Wednesdays I keep it simple...Meat and Two Veg. A classic, but I usually add an interesting marinade for the meat. The kids really like it and have very little to complain about. Sometimes I make a Meatloaf with an amazing tomato and clove sauce that is always a hit with my lot.

On Thursdays, it's Cosy and Hearty Night...Chicken Casserole, Honey Beef Stew & Dumplings, Sausage Casserole, Chilli, Sweet & Sour Pork, Shepherds Pie...mmmmm.

On Fridays, I give myself a break. Tonight it was Fish Fingers & Potato Wedges. My kids love Boiled Eggs & Soldiers, or a Cooked Breakfast for tea. Whatever it is, it's usually junk and they love it....

Saturdays is my absolute favourite day. We lay a big blanket out on the lounge floor, sit together in front of Saturday evening TV and devour our Adventure Meal. Our Adventure Meals are usually something we can eat with our hands, Pizza, Curry & Chapatis (made by Daddy), Fajitas, Nachos, Cheese Fondue, Raclette...basically any food that it adventurous to eat. Sometimes, I do  a Favourite Meal on a Saturday night...BBQ Ribs for Roo, Smoked Salmon for Indy & Seth and Lasagne for Dave.

On Sundays we've always enjoyed a family Roast dinner...(we ENJOY it, but we don't always manage it!!) Roasts are yummy and great for left overs and ALWAYS call for a pudding afterwards...last week was Grasshopper Pie and this week it'll be Banoffee Pie....soooooooooooo yum.

I find that planning my meals saves me lots of money and seems to take a lot of the stress out of life. I plan a few weeks in advance and then when it comes to dinner time, I know what's on the menu!

My recipes come from books, the Internet, my mum, my memories. I like to cook food that I like to eat. And I LOVE cosy, warming, hearty food. Maybe that's one of the reasons I love this season.

An important announcement

Tomorrow will be my 35th birthday. My husband will have the day off work and we will spend the day together, with our kids, trying to chill out, have fun and spend as little money as possible! After reading many blogs, posts and comments recently, it occurs to me it seems to be the season for making changes and then announcing them. It also seems that a birthday is a good time to start afresh and make some changes. New Year and birthdays seem to be the traditional time for making announcements of future plans, fresh ideas, changes in lifestyle and new endeavours. And so, I began to think....

There are (and always have been) about a million squillion creative projects that I have bubbling away. I have dreams of opening a children's bookshop, complete with an art area, a cafe for parents and kids and a secret back room full of dressing-up clothes and props for playing with and creating new stories. I have a number of books in my head (one is currently being written with my husband) and I am always planning sewing projects (a teepee for the garden, a wall hanging based around a line from a book I recently read, three quilts and some toys.) I have fruit ready to be made into pots of jam for the winter and I've already began to think about handmade Christmas presents for my friends and family this year. My eldest son starts secondary school in a few weeks, so I am in the process of gathering his uniform and equipment for school (including a mobile phone....why he needs one, I do not know....whatever....)

As I look at my life, there are many, many possibilities. There are so many areas of my character that need renewing and my body definitely needs some improvement. As I type, I can see my reflection in the screen and the sunshine is, very kindly, showing up rather a few lines around my eyes. But botox and plastic surgery are not really an option for me, so I'll have to get used to it.

I could always try to do more exercise, spend more time with friends and drink less Diet Coke. I could read more Christian lifestyle books, learn another language and shout at my kids less. I could put more time into my marriage, be more sympathetic to those in need and watch less Real Housewives of New York City.

But, the truth is, I'm just living. Life is busy and I am blessed. I have a husband, three kids, two cats and a house. I work at my husband's office a couple of days each week, go to a busy church, do the school run and try to keep up with our extended family. I have ideas and opinions, opportunities and great friendships. Our kitchen is falling apart, my veggie patch is overgrown and we need a new lounge carpet.

The fact is that what I am right now is enough. I do not need to strive. I do not need to aspire to be someone else and I do not need to impress. In the words of Fatboy Slim, "Right here, right now" is enough for me.

And so...I will not be making any big announcements or statements of intent. I will change gradually, as we all do, and I will allow God to move me along, transform me and nurture me. It is very likely that I wont announce it either. Why should anyone else be bothered by what I am doing? So, there you go - my important announcement - I'm not announcing anything.

Fantasy Man

Man, yesterday was just one of those days! I had a shocker. The second official day of the Summer Holidays, all three kids at home, burning hot sun, virtually no breeze, Dave at work, tired, hungry, fed up and frustrated. I yelled, and screamed at my kids on numerous occasions. I sent them to their bedrooms, for at least five lifetimes each, cried, listened to their apologies, offered mine, received their forgiveness, felt guilty and cried a bit more. The house was continually messy whilst I tried to continually tidy, the kids had totally different agendas from each other, one wanting to make a film, one wanting to play football, one wanting to build a camp in the garden - all wanting to do carry out their plans in the same garden...

I had decided to rest (with three kids, a virtual impossibility) and wanted some peaceful, quiet space in the cool living room, watching trashy TV or reading my new Summer holiday book ("Time of My Life by Cecelia Ahern...I LOVE her magical, funny and moving stories) but the kids continued to fight each other, break stuff, repeatedly ask for sugar-based snacks.

My eldest has just left Primary school, will be starting secondary school in September,and is therefore almost a teenager. Along with being a teenager, comes the "I'd-rather-have-a-bath-in-acid- with-Ann-Widecombe-than-spend-time-with-any-of-you" attitude, as well as an instinctive and healthy longing for independence. So, I'm on a massive learning curve of letting him go, giving him space, but at the same time teaching him the responsibility of family life and the importance of quality time together....needless to say, he and I are pretty much at war at the moment. And it's not a Cold War, it's a Burning Hot, Raging and Explosive War. Lots of fun. Oh yeah. Awesome. No, really.

So, last night, with a pretty tough day behind us,  after my children were all nestled all snug in their beds, with visions of unlimited ice cream in their heads, my poor, long-suffering husband Dave got the brunt of my day, in the form of a massive crying meltdown. I cried. I told him all of the things that I didn't like about myself. I sniffed a lot. I told him of all my terrible thoughts from the day. I told him that I felt frustrated, that I wanted to run away and to lie on a beach with a book and ignore everyone. I told him how I had eaten too much food - most of it fattening - and how I hated myself for losing control again, with my eating and with my use of expletives in front of our kids. I told him that I wouldn't blame him for choosing any other woman over me and how I felt that the kids would be damaged by my incompetence as a mum. I told him how I felt lonely and friendless, and how I felt as if others rolled their eyes at me, and my constant verbal/literal outbursts. I was having a Proper Pity Party, and no mistake!

"And what", I hear you ask, "did Dave say or do in response?" Well, as Dave would say, "That is a very good question." Dave listened. Dave acknowledged my feelings as valid. Dave explain that despite my feelings being valid, that they were feelings and not facts. Dave reassured me of his love for me, and his attraction to me, despite the amount of food that I had eaten. He told me that there was only one woman for him and only one mum for our children...and that was me. Dave reminded me of wonderful friendships that I have with wonderful people, and of the encouraging words I have received from so many friends. Dave also firmly told me that I need to stop being so hard on myself, that I need to rest and that he expected me to sleep as much as possible on our upcoming holiday in Dorset. Dave also was extremely firm in rebuking my feelings of guilt towards him or my children. He told me that he was proud of me and that his love for me would not change. Dave then sent me to  bed. He prayed for me this morning, and today (so far!) has been so much better.

This morning, as I recalled the conversation that Dave and I had last night, I found myself thanking God for this amazing man that is mine. He really is all I have dreamt of. He fulfils each point on a list that I wrote, describing my perfect husband to God. He is strong, kind, funny, generous and intelligent. He is handsome and humble and a hard-worker. He pursued me, at risk of looking silly. He is patient and understanding. He is friendly and easy to spend time with. Wow! A Fantasy Man!

Recently, with the release of "50 Shades of Grey", The Fantasy Man has hit the headlines. Mr Christian Grey seems to be featuring pretty regularly in the lives and imaginations of many women, if recent Facebook status updates are anything to go by! I've not read the book, so I am a little ill-informed about the character of Christian Grey, and to be honest, I'm not really that interested. But, I have been thinking a lot about the kind of man that a woman looks for. We all have different tastes, and as we live our lives, our tastes definitely change. But I have noticed something. Many of the women that I speak to are longing for a kind, honest, considerate, understanding, helpful , hard-working and strong man. They are searching for him. They are waiting for him. Many have not met him. Many have met someone who they hope will turn into him!

I'm not sure how this ideal, perfect man can be found, but I do know that many of us settle for second best, or less. I don't have any advice or any pearls of wisdom as to how to find this man, or how to change your current man into The Fantasy Man. I guess, I just felt a need to write this post, just in case anyone reading this needed reminding...You are precious...and you deserve the best. Choose well. Choose a kind, strong man, who loves you as you are, and challenges you to be the best. Choose a man who puts you first, before himself and sets you free to be happy, enjoy yourself and live life abundantly. Choose a man who is glad to say sorry when he is wrong and will do everything he can to make positive changes. A man who points out all of your faults, criticises your choices and withholds affection will bring you down and make you weak. A man who cuddles you, laughs at your jokes, and boasts to his friends about your beauty, intelligence and strengths will make you strong. For goodness sake, aim high and you'll end up living The Fantasy Life with the Fantasy Man.

What about him?

For as long as I can remember, I have compared myself and my life to others. I'd love to say that I have never been bothered by the achievements of others, and that the way other people look, has no impact on me at all. I'd love to say that I've always been content with "my lot", and that the lives of other people do not appeal to me. I'd love to be able to say that I've never seen the "grass as greener" on the other side of anyone else's fence. But the truth is, that I have often felt jealous of other people.

I can recognise the good things in my life. I am blessed with possibly the kindest husband to ever have graced the Earth with his presence. I have three healthy, bright, creative, loving children, with whom I became pregnant very easily. Each of my children have gained school places in our "first choice schools". I live in a sweet character house, which we own. We have a car which starts every morning. I live in a country where I can freely express myself. Both of my lovely parents are still alive and together. My amazing brother and I have a great relationship, and he is married to a girl who I absolutely adore and continually boast about!! I have an amazing array of awesome girlfriends who bless me in varied ways - girls who feed me, girls who make me laugh, girls who challenge me, girls who teach me stuff, girls I can cry with, big sisters, little sisters. I have had amazing opportunities in my life - school, university, great jobs, varied ministries, two loving and vibrant churches. I have had great financial blessings including cars being given as presents...in fact, all four of the cars I have owned have been given to me, including my beloved 1976 VW Beetle, Boop...oh how I miss her!!

Aside from these "external" blessings, God has blessed me with talents. I can sing pretty well,act, sew, knit, spin my own wool, bake, (my creativity is varied!!!) talk for Great Britain, preach, write, write songs, relate to all kinds of people and make people laugh. As my American friend, Bekah, describes herself, I too, am a "Janice of all trades".

Despite all this, I really struggle to enjoy the success and opportunities of others. There have been many, many times when I have seen other people given opportunities to have a new adventure, start a new ministry, or lead a project. This is life, isn't it? We all get to do new things, and enjoy progress at various times of our lives. But many of those times, I have felt bitter, sad and even angry that it was not me that got these things. Rarely have I envied money, but it is much more recognition that I have craved and, therefore, envied in others.

I am sure that many people would be astounded that I might crave the life or opportunities of other people. Why should another's life have any impact on mine? Why would I want something that someone else has, when I have so much anyway? The truth is, that it is only very recently that I have started to ask myself this question and try to work out the answer.

The answer is not very pretty. But seeing as though this post is honest and not very "pretty" either, I may as well keep going. In truth, I have often felt that I am viewed as "not quite satisfactory". Since I was a little girl, I have assumed that others see me as unintelligent, irritating, lazy, nosey, too big for my boots, moany, whiney, and fat. As an adult, I have also developed the belief that I am seen as "a loose canon", "very up and down", "flighty", "uninvolved with my children" and unreliable. Let me be very, very clear. This blog post is not designed to elicit reassuring comments or encouraging truths. I have been repeatedly reassured by trusted friends, who I believe would tell me the truth (good or bad) and I have had lots of counselling. I know that many of these things are not true. I have learnt that I have dwelt upon many lies that have somehow wormed their way into my psyche.

My own low opinion of myself and, more specifically, my concern that I am overlooked because of the low opinion of others, has left me with a natural and immediate tendency to envy others. The real problem with envying others is that my envy very quickly turns to judgement. I start to question the motives of others. "Why did they accept that promotion? What is their motive? Why do they think they can do it? How proud they are! If everyone knew what they were really like, they'd NEVER have been promoted!"

I then develop an unhealthy dislike and obsession. I begin to have imaginary conversations. I pray the wrong kind of prayers, "Lord, show everyone the truth! Show everyone what that person is REALLY like. I just feel that it is not right!"I gossip with others, under the guise of "genuine concern". "I'm just not so sure that they can cope with the responsibility. I'm really worried for them."

So, why have I chosen to write about this? Why am I sharing this? I guess it helps me. To admit that this is an issue for me is scary. I don't want everyone to know the really rubbish things about me. I've shared some of the rubbish things before...just not the really rubbish things. But I want to be free of it. In the past I have shared my battles with others, and it seems to have broken its power over me. I am hoping that by sharing this, its power will be broken.

And, the other reason that I am sharing this is that I know I am not alone. Jesus had a friend who he knew really well. His name was Peter. Jesus knew his strengths and he knew his weaknesses, and Jesus loved him anyway. Jesus gave Peter an unbelievable promotion. Jesus told Peter to build the church. The whole church! The first ever church! He told Peter that he would have the great responsibility, and privilege of starting the most powerful and important ministry EVER. Peter had been chosen - by the Son of God - to lead. He was verbally instructed and picked out of the crowd by Jesus himself.

Even when face-to-face with God, when offered with the greatest honour possible, Peter could not help himself. You see, Peter shared my weakness. He turned to another man, John, pointed to him and asked Jesus, "What about him?" I can imagine how Peter's mind was racing, just as mine would have been, "What does he get to do? Is it better than what I have to do? I bet it's more exciting than my job. Will he be famous? I bet he gets a better job. I bet he gets to travel. He'll be famous, everyone recognising him, and, meanwhile I'm working my butt off and no-one will even know my name. He always gets the good jobs. Whatever."

Jesus didn't leave Peter to dwell on his envy. He immediately challenged Peter, "If I want him to live until I come back, that is not your business. You follow me."

"You follow me." "You follow me." God has my life mapped out. I really do believe that. And God loves me. This means that the plan He has for me is amazing. His plan is fun, and satisfying, and exactly what I need. If I follow Him, focus on Him, and do whatever He has for me, then surely I'll not miss out. Surely I'll not be forgotten and I'll have a wonderful life.

This post has been more of a journal entry than a blog post. Sometimes I question why I blog. Do I want to be a famous writer? Do I want to be recognised? Do I really make myself this vulnerable so that others can be set free, or do I just want the praise? I'm not sure. But I am sure that I want God to change the rubbish in me. I want to enjoy an abundant life and be free. I want to be satisfied and content. Maybe by sharing this weakness, its hold over me will be broken, and I will be free to focus on what God has for me.

Sorry

I cannot count the amount of times I have had to say "sorry". It is, by no means, my favourite word, and yet it seems to be my most-used word. Most days I say "sorry" to one or all three of my kids, either for giving them the wrong sandwich filling, for getting their names mixed up (three kids, each has a different name..so, you know, pretty tough...) for ignoring them whilst watching "The Real Housewives of Orange County" or for totally losing it, and either smacking them or swearing when I've got too cross. I hate it when I mess up with my beautiful, precious children.

Pretty much daily I say "sorry" to people in the street that I either bump into, or get in the way of. And due to my "emotionally-shaped driving", I frequently shout "sorry" to other drivers whilst doing a "I'm cute, though" smile, after cutting them up on a roundabout. I even say "sorry" for sneezing, passing wind, and coughing.

Last week I said "sorry" to someone. It was a "sorry" I had been meaning to say for a long time, but I'd been too ashamed to admit what I'd done, too scared of being rejected, but also worried that I'd come across as over-dramatic, fussy or attention-seeking. The truth is, I am over-dramatic, fussy and attention-seeking (and I'm not being hard on myself, just real) but I really and truly felt sorry, and felt a need to say it. In the past, when I've needed to say sorry, I have had sleepless nights, physical sickness and extreme anxiety. This time I didn't have that, but I had a nagging whenever I saw my wronged friend. I knew that I had not been supportive. I knew that I had not been mature or helpful. I knew that I had done her wrong. I knew that I needed to say "sorry", whether my friend was concerned about it or not.

When my husband and I went through a marriage preparation course and then, a few years later, The Marriage Course - check out www.relationshipcentral.org - we learnt a lot about saying "sorry" and forgiving each other. We learnt about the importance of dealing with problems, talking about our feelings, (happy and hurt) taking responsibility for our actions, letting go of emotional wounds and looking to put each other first. We realised that we're both pretty good at saying sorry" to each other and forgiving each other. Although we're probably a bit too liberal with our use of the word "sorry".

My husband, Dave, is an amazing man. I could spend all day boasting about how wonderful he is. Right now, as I write this post, my gorgeous man is washing the dishes. He has put the kids to bed, after making the dinner, after driving us about all afternoon, after chatting with my family at a lunch to celebrate Father's Day, after driving our youngest to and from a party, after dressing the kids, after getting their breakfast, after serving me mine whilst I lay in bed, feeling hormonal and reading a book, after praying with me when we woke up because I felt sick. Yep. Super-husband. All-day-long-super-husband. And this is a typical day for my beautiful man. I am truly blessed. Truly blessed.

Dave is especially good at saying "sorry". He even changes to become a better person after he's said "sorry". Wow. That takes effort! He listens to my "grievance", acknowledges my feelings, admits his wrong - be it accidental or intended - and says "sorry". He then goes on to tell me how he intends to change and then makes all efforts to change!!! As I said, "Wow!"

Often when another person challenges me on my wrong-doing, I become hugely defensive, make my excuses, I mean, explain my reasons, and eventually squeeze the word "sorry" out of my pursed, lemon-sucking lips...nice.

"Sorry" is not easy. Whatever we are saying "sorry" for, it can be such a hard word to say. It can also be such a hard word to accept from another. But accepting someone's "sorry" or forgiving, has the same, hugely powerful effect. It sets us free.

Recently, my gorgeous son, admitted to doing something that he shouldn't have done. After he had admitted it to us, he commented that he felt "relieved and so much better." The truth was out, and it had set him free. The next day, he was able to apologise to the person he had wronged. As we drove away, he breathed an audible sigh, "I feel better now, Mum. Let's go home." He was exhausted. So was I!

Not saying "sorry" is exhausting. Feeling guilty is just so tiring, and so much energy is used in remaining stubborn and unapologetic. Holding a grudge is the same. When we allow another's wrong-doing to make us angry, bitter and unforgiving, we have to try hard to hold onto it!

Forgiveness is a choice. It is a deliberate choice. It can seem like a difficult choice. But it is a like choosing to spend a day by the sea. It is like choosing a deep breath of fresh air. It is like choosing a calm and quiet day at the spa. It is like choosing to lay in the grass, watching thesky as the clouds roll by.  Forgiveness is peaceful, fresh, restful and free. For me, saying "sorry" is another form of forgiveness. It is me, forgiving myself, and setting myself free. The world tells us that saying "sorry" and admitting weakness, makes us weak. The truth is that admitting weakness makes us strong. It sets us free to become better, and gets rid of the facade of perfection that so many of us work so hard to keep afloat. We stop wasting energy on faking it, and start enjoying and relaxing in the process of re-shaping that God takes us through. We don't need to work as He does the work for us.

So, last week I was strong and I set myself free. I admitted my wrong-doing. It felt scary and I felt vulnerable, and pretty embarrassed. But, I am so glad that I said "sorry" to my friend. I am also so very glad that she forgave me. Now, I'm free.

Oh, Hello...

Okay. So here I am, writing again. It's been so long (my last post was last year!), but I've not really felt inspired to write. I've been inspired in other areas - baking, sewing and speaking mainly, and been ever-so busy - I've even been working - but I've not felt like I have much to say about much.....

Tomorrow I'm heading off to a women's conference in Bradford. It'll be great. I've been twice before. It's held at a great, outward-reaching church. The conference, called Cherish, is very girlie, lots of pretty decor, girl-themed talks and cakes. Speakers from all over are flown in, and the worship is loud, lively and God-centred. I'll be going with a group of girls, mostly from my church, and it'll be lots of fun to be together and hear from God.

In a few weeks, I'm going to another conference, called Real. It's being hosted by the gorgeous Catrina Benham at Kerith Community Church, and will undoubtedly be excellent in all aspects. Again, an international speaker is being flown in, and I am really excited to hear what God has to say through her.

But, something is stirring in me. Something is unsettled in my spirit. I feel fidgety and dissatisfied. I can't seem to sit still or feel content. Often I feel like this just before I head into a bout of depression. I feel tired, but not able to sleep. I get irritated by little things and cry a lot. This time, though, it feels different.

My son, Reuben is 11 years old. He is in the middle of his last term of Primary School. He has been  there since he was four, but is now preparing to leave. He will be saying goodbye to his friends and teachers, as he is the only child from his current school to be going on to his chosen secondary school. He will be leaving behind the "one classroom system", and singing hymns in assembly. He will not be the eldest in the school anymore, and so he will no longer have the respect or authority of the younger students. Many may feel sadness in Reuben's situation. However, he is ready. He is so ready.

Every day, he talks about his new secondary school. He asks questions about his new locker, his new uniform, his journey to school, where he will be walking alone. He asks about which mobile phone he'll be getting, and when his next visit will be. But his excitement about his new school has made him become negative and irritated by his primary school. He feels bored, fenced in, and simply does not see the point in being there anymore.

I can relate to Reuben's feelings. I have always loved moving. I have relished new starts. I do not find making new friends scary, and I love to start fresh projects. I am great at starting things. I am an innovator. A friend recently prophesied that I was "a midwife". Although I have considered helping women to deliver their babies, this was not what my friend meant. "You start things, create patterns for how they will work, and then pass them on."

I love to star things. But I find finishing very difficult. It does not come naturally to me. When friends move away, I find myself retreating before they go. I avoid saying goodbye. I have started ministries, but always passed them onto others within time. I have many craft projects lying around, unfinished in my home. I like to leave parties earlier than anyone else. The only place where I am the last to leave, is church. And I rarely finish a tube of toothpaste.

When school finished, I was ready to leave. After my time at university, I had had enough and left without tears. My teacher training year ended, and I merrily made my way to my new job. I left my job with excitement about my new husband, our marriage, and finally being able to be at home with my young son. I left my home church, to move to another, with such peace and focus on new ministries and new friends.


And now? Now, I think, my feet are itchy. I am longing for the new. I know where I want to be and what I want to do there...but we are still waiting. I guess that's why I've not written for a while. I am still waiting. God has moved, and things have changed. But we are still waiting. I am not waiting for healing or for the salvation of a loved one, and so I guess I feel a little guilty for feeling so frustrated. But I am still waiting. I'll keep waiting. I trust in God's promises. And I will choose to trust in His timing too.

Extravagance

About eighteen months ago, I went along to a worship and ministry evening at a great church in Maidenhead. During the evening, I received a prophetic painting of a set of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. The painter told me that she felt that God was unravelling me!! The previous roles in ministry that I had held were changing. God wanted to unravel me, and then re-wind me, so that I could be knitted into a new garment. How exciting is that?!?! The painter had no idea that I was a knitter as we'd not met before!!

Later that evening, I was prayed for and anointed with oil, in preparation for the new ministries that God had in store for me. It felt really significant, and I came home full of excitement. You see, for years I have wanted to preach. I've shared my personal story both privately and in public, and I have always enjoyed public speaking. At university, I did a Theatre degree and I was a secondary school teacher for a period of time, so speaking to large groups of people is something I've always found easy and lots of fun. Plus, I often felt that my casual chats with friends turned into sermons, as so often I had really strong feelings about things and felt unable to keep them to myself!!!

So, I waited. I waited for opportunities. I waited for God to tell me what to preach about. I waited for training. I waited for encouragement. I waited for an invitation to speak. I waited....

I've had a few opportunities to preach. I have loved every minute of it. My amazing husband, Dave has been preaching for years, and so he has passed on lots of great advice and wisdom that, in turn, had been shared with him. The best piece of wisdom he passed on came from his friend and former mentor, David Brown, who told him that before we can preach a sermon, the Holy Spirit must first preach it to us.

Great advice. Such wisdom. So much sense!! So, with that in mind, I'd love to share with you something that God is preaching to me about at the moment.

This week, God has called me to change the way I worship Him. Last Sunday, I stood at the back of church , singing, watching my kids run about, and watching other peoples' kids doing the same!!! I watched the church worship, and then I turned to my beautiful friend, Wendy. Wendy is a pleasure to know. She is a delight to spend time with, and she loves Jesus passionately.

As I watched her worship, I noticed a difference between her and the rest of our church. Despite her tiny frame, understated clothes, and incredibly gentle and shy personality, Wendy is extravagant, when it comes to worship. In fact, when it comes to Jesus, she is extravagant, full-stop. She loves to read her bible. She loves to pray. She loves to worship. She loves to introduce others to Jesus and to His church. She cannot stand attention and is not at all into public speaking, but she worships God loudly, whole-heartedly, with her whole body, and without inhibition.

Wendy has four young children and a husband, who often plays in the worship team, and yet she is somehow able to focus on Jesus in worship, listen to what the Holy Spirit is saying, and respond with every fibre of her being. To me, she embodies the verse, "Let everything within me praise Him!" I had to share my feelings with Wendy, that God delights in her extravagance greatly!!!

I was reminded of the woman, in the bible, who broke a precious and valuable jar of perfume, over the feet of Jesus, and then wiped His feet with her hair. I suddenly understood what that woman did, and why it pleased Jesus so much. It was her extravagance. She gave Him everything she had, including any ounce of pride that may have remained within her. She risked making a fool of herself. She risked rejection. She risked ridicule. She risked it all. She surrendered it all.

Being extravagant is not about showing off. It's not about being the centre of attention. It's about our hearts, and it's about rising it all.

How many times have I sung the words, "I surrender all", with my arms in the air, but my mind on the opinions of others? Have I surrendered all? Really? How many times have I held back, fearing that I might look silly?

During this week, God has confirmed in me another calling on my life. This calling involved my husband too. We feel that God has called us to extravagance when it comes to giving. Let me be clear. We are not giving more money that other people. In fact, we're most likely giving less. But, God is calling us to be extravagant in our faith, when it comes to giving and trusting God for His provision. We have seen God's amazing, miraculous provision in our lives very recently. It has amazed us and blessed us. It has built our faith. But it had always come after we have stepped out in faith with our money. When we have given to Gift Days at our church, we have handed over money that has been specifically put aside for other things - holidays, cars, carpets. Every single time, we have still been able to have those things...and more!!! A once-in-a-lifetime anniversary trip to New York City. A Honda CRV, big enough for our whole family, in perfect condition. A free Blue-Ray DVD player, better than our current DVD player!! £1000 in cash, as a gift, from a friend who felt God prompt her to give it to our family. Car repairs paid for outright. Boxes of groceries left on our doorstep. Cheques handed over. Cash handed over. A brand new Citroen Zsara Picasso, just before I gave birth to our second child. A coffee bought by a friend. Brunch from my friend. A day in a lovely health spa. A week's holiday. A deposit for a house. A new pair of shoes. A romantic night out for Dave and I.

I was always taught that the money we receive is not ours, it belongs to God. He has given us money to see what we will do with it.

With the money that God has given us, Dave and I we have bought random bags of cookies, DIY supplies that have remained unused in our shed, clothes that didn't fit properly, shoes that I've worn once, cushions that get thrown off the bed anyway, expensive (and popular) toys that broke within minutes of being given to our kids, haircuts that no-one notices, a surround-sound system that never got connected to out TV, another mascara, dinners that we didn't finish and countless other things. We've also managed to obtain silly loans and an overdraft. Not exactly great use of God's gift. We feel cross with ourselves. Who are we to misuse God's money so very badly?

So, we have decided to make a change. We will be extravagant in our giving and extravagant in our faith. We will be self-controlled and disciplined with our spending, of both God's money and God's time.

When God gave us Jesus, He gave the most precious thing He had. He gave extravagantly. When Jesus gave His life for us, He gave up the most precious relationship available - a relationship with God. He gave extravagantly.When we worship, we can choose to hold something back, or be extravagant. When we give our tithes and offerings, we can hold some back for "a rainy day", or trust our Lord and Saviour to shelter us from the rain!!! We can live lives limited by our weaknesses, lack of faith and inhibitions. Or, we can be radical. We can be extravagant, just like God has been with us.

Is it really too much for us to give it all back...extravagantly? Doesn't He deserve it?

God's Call

An amazing thing is happening. God is calling me. I know for loads of my readers who are not Christians this may sound really odd, but it is really real for me at the moment. The phone did not ring. I did not get the "You've Got Mail" sound on my mobile. Nobody rang my doorbell. But all I can think about is one thing only, and how I really want to be a part of it, serving God, loving people, building relationships. And one morning, I heard an audible voice wake me up...but more of that later!!!

The day before my birthday, which is the 16th August, Dave told me of a new project. My reaction was, "oh...right."- Such was my knowledge of THAT PROJECT. The next day, we watched a film. The main character uttered the words, "I know what I have to do to. I have to..." THAT PROJECT, again. Repeatedly, we engaged in conversations where THAT PROJECT was brought up by the other party.

THAT PROJECT is not something I have experience in. It is not something I have heard much about. It is not something that I have always wanted to do. It is not a safe bet, an easy ride or a project of my dreams, and yet I am dreaming about THAT PROJECT, almost nightly. THAT PROJECT. THAT PROJECT.

One morning, I was woken up by a loud voice saying, "Start big!" It was loud, excited, clear and strong. It made me jump out of bed! NOTHING makes me jump out of bed!!! Bed is one of my favourite places. But, that voice did make me jump up, wake up and feel ready. I feel ready to follow Jesus, whatever He wants me to do.

So, we are praying. We are waiting. God knows what we need to make the next step. He knows the obstacles we will overcome. He knows our own weaknesses. He knows my insaitable need for adventure. He knows how carried away I can get. He knows whether we'll do it or not.

Right now, I'm sat in my hallway, typing this post. Only He knows at I'll be doing tomorrow!!!
So I ask you to pray. Pray for us. We want to hear God and He knows what we need...please pray...and then I can tell you all the details!!!

How Long?

How long has it been since I last wrote? Too long, is my answer as I LOVE to do this and I feel fidgety if I don't write... There's no real reason, other than life getting in the way - school runs, coffee with girlfriends, making stuff (pin cushions for leaving teachers, bridesmaid dresses for my brother's wedding, jam for the winter after foraging sessions with the kids, an amazing veggie patch that has given out strawberries, carrots, broccoli, courgettes, peas, bean, corn....awesome), family holidays, school holidays...It's all just "stuff". Important stuff, sure, but it's the same stuff that distracts me from precious time I should be spending with Jesus and time I should be spending just "being", breathing, watching, thinking, writing, praying....

If I look back, I have often asked the question, "how long?" As we returned from a recent holiday to Kent, we stopped for an urgent skinny hazelnut latte....I stood in a slow, long queue, waiting to be served. A kind and smiley barista calmly and carefully took his time with each order, making sure the foam was of a high quality, that the espresso was smooth and not too strong or weak, gently, but firmly placing the lid onto each cup, ensuring a pleasurable coffee for each customer. What fantastic service, all with a smile. And yet, it was not fast enough for me. When I finally received my coffee, faking a smile, thanking him through gritted teeth, I grumbled to my poor, long-suffering husband as we left the service station, stating the wait to be the longest I had EVER experienced for a coffee, and asking him to remind me to avoid this coffee shop in future. The coffee, incidentally, was delicious and was demolished in minutes.

I am just terrible at waiting. Waiting seems so unnecessary. It seems like needless torture. It seems like a cruel joke that God plays on us to show us that He is really in charge and there's nothing we can do about it.

A month or so ago, I was invited to speak at a church in Surrey. And I spoke on Waiting. At the time, we were waiting for money to buy a car. Ours had broken and we therefore were relying on lifts from friends, local buses and our feet!! I had been waiting for healing from depression for about three years. I had been waiting for a diagnosis for our son, who has found the school environment pretty tough since he got there!! We had waited for a new job for Dave after redundancy. I had watched friends wait for healing from cancer, other friends wait for a baby. I had waited for a new ministry to unfold for me. For such a long time I have longed to speak, to preach to share what God is telling me, and how He is changing and teaching me. I had prayed, I had been prayed for and I had been anointed with oil!! By a real-life pastor!!! (And I had been waiting for my husband to fix the cupboard door under the stairs....)

I spoke about how God wants to use us as we wait. He has an urgent use for our gifts and strengths while we wait. He has a place for each of us to serve while we wait. He wants to use our waiting to teach us patience, yes, but He will also change us while we wait. He takes us through periods of waiting, not just to make us appreciate the time when He finally answers our questions or when He blesses us with what we have longed for, but also so that we can learn how to trust Him, believe in Him and become more like Him.

At the moment, I am waiting. I am waiting for God to show us where to go, what to do and when to do it. I have a history of impatience and it seems that I also have a history of forgetfulness. Because, in my life, I have often waited. I have not collapsed under the pressure or been disappointed with God's intervention. An intervention, I might add, that has always come, in His time.

You see, God did not give us money for a new car. He gave us a car. A generous family in our amazing church passed on their Honda CRV - big enough for our three kids and us, in great condition, with a full MOT and service.

God has delivered me from the hold that depression had over my life. I am still careful to rest, medicate myself and look out for the signs, but I am no longer bound by the fear of a breakdown.

We have a clear and correct diagnosis for our son - Autistic Spectrum Disorder. He understand his feelings now and, although we are still on a journey, we feel better able to understand him and guide him well.

Dave got a new job, and there was not a day when we went without food, treats and fun.

We have known four people who have been given the all-clear of cancer - one I only learned of today!!! Cancer has killed some, but we have seen restoration in the lives of their husbands, wives and children, and we have been greatly comforted by the sure and certain knowledge of their eternal life with Jesus!!

We have seen a number of miracle babies born after long waits, and also we have seen orphaned and abandoned children blessed with new, loving, adoptive parents.

More opportunities and invitations to speak have emerged, and I have loved every minute, feeling so very encouraged and blessed, by sharing in other people's journey with Jesus.

God has not let me down. He has not ignored me. He has answered and He has blessed me. The cupboard door for under the stairs is still not fixed.....but I can wait!