Snowy Days

Pretty predictable, I know, but I decided to blog about the snow. I love it. I love the way that it changes out landscape, the way that it falls so silently and causes such chaos. Well, it causes chaos in England!! I love playing in the snow with my kids. I love making snowmen, igloos and sledging. I am not a fan of snowball fights (I'm a bit of a girl like that) but any hilarity in the snow, followed by a mug of hot chocolate is a good thing, as far as I'm concerned.

I grew up in a great church, where the pastor prayed for snow every Christmas. I joined him in his heartfelt genuine prayers, which have not been answered...until this year!!! I think that this will be the first White Christmas I have ever seen, and to say that I am excited would be an understatement!! I am so excited to see the line of snow balancing on the top of the wall outside, as I look through my bay window, which is studded with the reflection of little golden tree lights. As I wrap presents, sip my tea, and watch Christmas films, I seem to be glimpsing out every five minutes, just to make sure that the snow hasn't thawed, or just in case it has started to snow again!

I know that snow causes lots of problems. I know that it stops emergency vehicles from getting to people in need of help. I know that the cold weather causes even bigger problems for those with no heating and those with chronic painful conditions. I know that getting from A to B becomes a big issue. This morning, I read that the economy may be headed for another downturn due to a lack of shoppers. I understand the difficulty for those trying to get to work, school, hospitals and family. I cannot even begin to imagine a night on the streets in the snow.

But, bearing in mind all of the problems that the snow causes, I am still grateful for what it does. I makes us to stop. It lets us remain inside, with family. It gives us the opportunity to play together. It forces us to "make do" with our available supplies of food. It causes us to consider those who we cannot get to, and therefore how much we value those friends and family. It encourages us to empathise with those who may be without heat, a roof, a family.

This afternoon, Dave, the kids and I went out to a nearby park to go sledging. As I looked out on the park, the railway that runs alongside it, the duck pond at the edge and the trees which enclose it, I found myself asking God what he wanted to say to me in the midst of this unusual weather. As I walked, I noticed how quiet everything was. I could here the water rushing under a drain cover. I could here the individual voices of the children, including mine, who were playing. It was very, very peaceful - quite a contrast from my "normal life".

It made me thankful as I considered that chaos to us, is a plan from God. As life goes on hold after various surprises in life, both good and bad, God is never surprised and uses the times for his Glory and for our good. God wants us to stop. He wants us to rest on certain experiences. He doesn't want everything to "fly by". He sometimes wants us to take time to play, laugh, sleep, grieve, think, listen, snuggle, watch. Our natural reaction to chaos is to kick against it. We try to get to where we want to go, even if it isn't safe. But, God has us where we are for a reason. He doesn't make mistakes and he never leaves us. With that in mind, shouldn't we take surprises and chaos and use them to our advantage? We need to submit to chaos sometimes. It's there for a reason.

Advent

As Christmas nears, I find myself living a life of busyness and creativity. I am far too busy to sit and look, sit and moan, or sit and think. At the moment, my blogging seems to reflect that! I have been mainly sharing ideas, recipes and creative projects with you, and I'm afraid that this post will be no different.
Only this morning, Seth was asking me how many "sleeps" there are until the end of November. This is because, he is waiting for that day, as on that morning, he will be putting on his school uniform, ready for his first visit to his new primary school. As we counted the days until the 30th, we discovered that he only had seven sleeps left. It was shortly after this calculation that it dawned on me that I have only eight sleeps left until the beginning of Advent - without a doubt my favourite time of the year!!!
And so, this afternoon, I have been preparing our Advent Calendar. A few years ago, I was a part of an amazing team, who ran a Mums and Toddlers group called Sparklers - it was the best toddler group in the land!!! We loved it. The team was solid, and we loved each other and the families that we served. We'd often have Mum's Nights, and the one that I particularly relished was the Christmas Craft Evening. It was always held at the end of November and we'd have a great time. Candles everywhere, mulled wine bubbling away, Christmassy music being played, a bit of entertainment, a bit of a talk and lots of different "stations" to move around. The stations would usually be things like, wire decoration-making, How to Wrap a Pressie, mince pies, glass painting, Make a Table Centre, sewing a tree decoration, and so on. I LOVED it!!!
One year, a lady named Helen, who is a great mum, wife and daughter of God, stood up and spoke (something she wasn't keen on!) She told us about her Advent Calendar. She had a calendar with little pockets in. She told us that her children would find something in each pocket, each day. She handed out pieces of paper with Bible verses for each day, and ideas for special Christmas jobs to do each day also. Excitedly, I took my handouts home and assembled our advent calendar, which had previously only housed Galaxy Minstrels.
Since then our Advent Calendar has always presented our children with three treats on each day of the Advent period. As they pop their little fingers into the appropriate pocket for that day, they find a Bible verse, a Christmas job and a little chocolate each. Each day, their different Christmas job moves more and more into the Christmas Mood. One day, they might be making some shortbread, the next day delivering to friends to wish them a Merry Christmas. Another day, they might be snuggled up in the front the fire watching "Santa Claus - The Movie", whilst another they might sit together in their rooms, reading old Christmas books. We also make the school Christmas celebrations a part of our Advent activities, and so we mark the Tree Decorating Ceremony, as well as the School Nativity Play. Our church is very busy around Christmas time, and whilst Dave and I rehearse for various performances, the children are instructed, by the calendar, to "Write your Christmas cards!". You see, although the Advent calendar is only a small calendar, and although the delving into each pocket takes seconds, this new kind of Advent Calendar has changed our Advent completely.
As I listen to the radio, and I hear children call in to tell of what picture they have found behind the door of their calendar, I often wonder what impact a picture of a bell, a present or a fairy have those children. I then think of my kids, learning more of the real story of Christmas, having the enjoyment and excitement of making shortbread to deliver to friends, watching a favourite Christmas film, reading an old Christmas book, writing their Christmas cards and going on our annual "Pyjama Ride". The impact of their Advent Calendar is endless, and creates memories at every turn.
My kids still ask for shop-bought, chocolate-filled Doctor Who, Hello Kitty and Ben 10 Advent Calendars. But as I remind them of our special calendar, the expressions on their faces change to those of pure excitement, at the prospect of all the adventures, activities and surprises that our calendar brings.
So, whether you grab a fabric calendar with pockets, a wooden calendar with drawers or 24 odd socks, pinned up around the house, how about making Advent a really special time in your family? Enjoy more time together and less time stressing. Enjoy the simple pleasures of this mid- winter festival, and do less spending. And even if you can't find the energy to sort out every day, grab your family, watch a Christmas film (National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation always works a treat), read The Grinch and eat some mince pies. It's so worth it.

Indy's Birthday Party

Well, the 5th November saw us celebrate another birthday in the life of our daughter, Indy. It was her 7th birthday, and it was great fun. I have never had enough money to hold a party at a restaurant, or at a local soft-play centre, or even in a hired hall. I have not had enough money to hire an entertainer, or to have party bags full-to-the-brim of personalised gifts, pre-packed by a lovely company. Even our own wedding was largely homemade and low-budget.

As a child, before my birthday parties, my dad made annual trips into the woods near our house to "find" young trees to chop down and turn into poles for hanging crepe paper streamers, that would hang across our back garden with multi-coloured balloons. Dad would usually make a mix-tape of whatever songs were fashionable at the time, as well as Stevie Wonder's "Happy Birthday" the "Theme from Fame" and Olivia Newton-John's "Let's Get Physical" (and yes, I really did think it was all about exercise!!) He would also put together games of all sorts, that generally involved getting very messy, very giggly, and being rewarded with little prizes from the local toy shop. I remember one year, maybe my 9th birthday, he had devised a treasure hunt around the garden, that involved working out all sorts of riddles and puzzles. So much fun!!! My mum always made an amazing birthday cake - an owl, a teddy bear, a country cottage, a record player - and created quite an outstanding spread of sausage rolls, dinky sandwiches with various fillings, Party Ring biscuits, hula hoops, Twiglets and Iced Gems. Jelly and ice cream in abundance always followed, and fizzy drinks like limeade and cherryade, which we only had for parties, would be poured until over-flowing. Mum put together great party bags with pencils, party blowers, tiny packs of pencils and those plastic moving snakes. Of course, everyone went home with a slice of Mum's amazing cake, and when they had left, Mum and Dad marvelled at all of the lovely presents that my friends had brought for me.

I have followed in my parents' footsteps with my own children's parties - all homemade (by necessity) and full of food, games and fun. Indy's party this year was no different!! I thought that you might be interested in what we did, as, in my researching for ideas and hints, I discovered a few blogs that featured a "How to..." for their parties. So, here we go...

Indy asked for a chocolate party. As we talked about it more, it developed into a "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" Party. It was going to be fairly low-key, as I try to remained de-stressed as the dark nights close in, and my depression often starts to rear it's ugly head. However, as soon as Roo, my 10 year-old son came up with the idea of Golden Tickets for the invites, it spiralled wildly out of control!!!! We decided to put the tickets inside chocolate bars, and as the only appropriate chocolate bars (wrapped in foil and then in a paper sleeve) were Nestle, which I tend to avoid, I found myself buying huge Cadbury's Dairy Milk bars which I then broke into small slabs, ready for wrapping. I used gold wrapping paper for the foil and made my own sleeves which I designed on the computer. I was just delighted with them, especially when I saw the guests' faces, and heard their squeals of delight, as they opened them on the playground one morning!!!

So, we then began to plan the party in detail. We decorated the house with paper bunting made using old scrap-booking papers and colourful balloons. As the children waited outside with their parents, they ate squirrel and star-shaped gingerbread biscuits. Roo dressed up as Willy Wonka, welcoming the guests and collecting their tickets on arrival. Dave had made a big contract, which the children signed, just like in the old Willy Wonka film with Gene Wilder.

As we were clearly unable to make our whole house edible, in the living room, I created an Edible Garden, which included a gingerbread house, green coconut grass, edible rice paper flowers, brown sugar soil, an edible veggie patch made with dried cranberries, rainbow drops, sprinkles and red fizzy laces. The kids silently stared at the Edible Garden, mouths and eyes wide, before being told that they could eat the whole thing!!! They then proceeded to really go for it!!!

"Willy Wonka" then led them into the dining room, where they helped themselves to the Lolly Tree, met an Oompa Loompa (my future sister-in-law, Heather) who was "spinning" fine strawberry laces on my spinning wheel, and ate of her wares. They had a game of Pass the Parcel, where little Emily won the prize of a tube of Jelly Tots, and then made their way outside.

"Willy Wonka" led them into the Tunnel of Delights (the side path to our back garden) which had been decorated with candles, fairy lights and ribbons, upon which hung mini chocolate bars, sweets, lollies, chews, candy canes and more laces.

They popped their treasure into little plastic cups, labelled with small bunting triangles with their names on, and then walked through into the house to be greeted with a basket full of marshmallows and a flowing chocolate fountain!!!

After this, they sat in a circle to play The Chocolate Game - you know, the one with a die, over sized coat, scarf, gloves and hat and chocolate bar to be chopped up with a knife and fork? - even the shy kids got stuck in!!! We re-grouped with a party tea of funky sandwiches, mini choccie cupcakes, crisps of all shapes and Fizzy Lifting Drinks (the essential cherryade, limeade and orangeade.)

The children gathered in the living room to watch Indy open her presents, and then sat down in front of the old version of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory", whilst they waited for their parents' to arrive. I couldn't resist pouring the full jars of sweets into their little hands and laps, just at the point that the shop keeper in the film does the same thing, as he sings, "The Candy Man". It made an complete mess of my living room carpet, but the kids loved it.

As they left, full of sugar, pupils fully-dilated, I couldn't help but feel that we'd done a good job. A homemade party is definitely a lot of work (my first diagnosis of depression was after a homemade party three years ago!!) but it is so much cheaper and really satisfying. And I think that the kids who came will remember it for a long time.

I'll be honest (regular readers will know this is pretty usual for me!!) It has been a tough old week.

Mondays are never really a problem for me. They are always rather full, but I actually look forward to them, as a moment of calm and solitude, after what is usually a busy and chaotic weekend. This Monday was the same: wake up; shower; make packed lunches; shepherd kids out of the back door and to the car, climbing over buckets, scooters, bikes and mud pies; drive to school; pray with the kids; say "Goodbye, I love you, God bless you!" to Roo; go into school with Indy and Seth; set up for the weekly Mum's Coffee Morning; say "Goodbye, I love you, God bless you!" to Indy when the bell goes, and she wanders round to her classroom; wait for mums to arrive, while Seth attempts to write his name on the white board with a permanent marker (quickly to be replaced with a white-board marker); greet the mums; make drinks for them; drink coffee; avoid the chocolate biscuits; eat chocolate biscuits; realise what the time is; rush off, dragging Seth by his coat; throw him into the car; drive to nursery; drop him off five minutes late; apologise for being late; say "Goodbye, I love you, God bless you" to Seth; get back in the car; drive back to school; go back to Mum's Coffee Morning; tell funny stories about children's references to family secrets in public; say goodbye to mums; tidy up; rush off; drive to Women's Bible Study; arrive ten minutes late; park badly; apologise for lateness; tell funny stories about children's references to family secrets in public; drink more coffee; read Bible; discuss with other women; realise what the time is; rush out to car; drive back to nursery; collect Seth, along with soggy painting with bits of pasta falling off; drive home; eat lunch. That's my usual Monday morning.

This Monday was different. After dropping Seth at nursery and then returning to school, our wonderful headteacher, Mrs Gellatly asked me to come into her office, for a chat. We talked about Roo, and an incident on Friday, where he had shouted at a Lunchtime Controller. She was very kind and almost apologetic when she suggested that he take a break from school lunchtimes. She felt that he needed some time out, to calm down.

You see, a few months ago, Roo was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome. Aspergers Syndrome is an ASD - Autistic Spectrum Disorder. Every day we are learning more about what it means. More specifically, every day we are learning about what it means for Roo.

Roo needs a break from lunchtimes at school, because he sometimes finds social situations difficult to cope with. Lunchtimes, on a playground with 209 other children is hard for Roo. He has no structure to his lunchtime. He sees many different groups of people. He watches them whizz around, running, shouting, laughing, skipping, interacting with each other and burning off their energy. He hears their shouts, laughs, screams, cries, rhymes and stories. Everything is too busy, too noisy, too hectic, and he becomes very frightened. Fear manifests itself in many different ways - bravado, angry outbursts, crying, hiding, lashing out. Roo needs a break from these feelings, which are caused by school lunchtimes.

There are many social situations in which Roo copes really well. He loves meeting new people and he loves spending time with older children, teenagers and adults. He enjoys formal occasions like weddings, and has no problems at all with going out for meals and on day trips. He loves the cinema and theatre, and most people would not even notice that Roo is any different to any "normal" child.

But living with Roo is a different matter. Today is INSET Day, which means no school, and no usual routine. He finds any change to his routine very upsetting, and often becomes manic or angry. He seems to be "up for a ruck" most of the time. He has one-sided conversations with us, where he lacks the awareness of our boredom, after he has spoken about something for a very long time, and we have not responded. Roo is obsessed with Doctor Who. He used to be obsessed with vacuum cleaners and dragons. Roo often seems unable to understand his own feelings, particularly when he is anxious. This makes it hard to communicate with him at times. And he flies off the handle at the slightest inconvenience to his day.

So, I have started to read. A lot. I have started using my creativity to help him. I have made him Daily Kit Lists, which are the size of business cards, and are attached to his bag, by a keyring. I have devised routine lists, for weekends and school holidays - Roo has always found these days unsettling, and taken his anxiety out on us. I have tried to engage my other children in understanding and helping Roo, as we all help each other in our different areas of need.

Lunchtimes this week have been hectic - an extra two journeys to and from school - but it has been good to learn more about what Roo needs. Sometimes, our children get poorly. When this happens, they need time to recuperate. It is the same for kids with Aspergers. Sometimes, they need a break. They need some time away from the chaos and busyness of school. In that time, they need some peace, their home and a cosy hug from their mum. So, that's what we did, and for now, it seems to have helped.

After the half term holidays, Roo's lunchtimes will be different. Lunch in the canteen, reading or playing a game with friends in the library, a short run around and then back to the classroom for the afternoon. Hopefully this routine will help Roo to cope better with lunchtimes.

As I have said, everyday we are learning more and I'll let you know what more we learn.

It is said that Sir Isaac Newton, Thomas Jefferson and Hans Christian Andersen all had Aspergers. Those of you who have met Roo will know that he is hard to forget - such a big character, so friendly and so very intelligent. For those of you who haven't had the privilege of meeting him yet, remember the name - Reuben Roper - you heard it here first!!!

A recipe

I don't often do this, but my blog title demands such an entry. Here is a recipe for my latest invention. Inspired by a Nigella recipe and my brother, Benji's recent veggie growing success with his gorgeous girlie, Heather, I decided to make this. It is a cross between Banana Bread, Carrot Cake and something you might eat as part of a detox.....Eaten whilst warm, sitting in front of the fire, watching scarved and hatted passers-by stare longing through the window, makes this cake even more beautiful. Yum yum yum.....

Sal's Courgette Loaf Cake

2 desert apples, grated

same weight in raw courgette, grated

100g raisins/sultanas

2 eggs, beaten

125g butter, melted

150g brown sugar

1 tsp cinnamon

175g plain flour

2tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp bicarb

1. Mix apple, courgette, raisins, eggs, sugar, butter and cinnamon together in a large bowl.

2. Combine flour, baking powder and bicarb in a smaller bowl and then add, a third-at-a-time to the wet ingredients.

3. Stir until fully combined and pour into a greased and lined loaf tin.

4. Bake @ Gas 3 for 60 - 70 minutes.

5. Leave to cool in the tin.

Oh. My. Goodness

As you can see from the photo, it won't last long...

Are you an includer?

Isn't it easy to feel lonely? As I stand on the school playground, waiting for my two eldest children to come out, I often look around and see groups of gathered mums and dads, chatting, laughing, listening, smiling. Sometimes, as I look on, I feel lonely. I then step back, and look out. I see individuals stood, waiting, all by themselves. They look lonely. In the same way, as my youngest child, Seth runs about with his little friends who are yet to start "Big School", I see the odd child stood alone at the side, or sitting on the ground, playing in the dirt, all by themselves.

There have been many, many occasions when my children have told me that, either at nursery or at school, they had "no-one to play with today". In fact, our school has a Buddy Bench, where lonely children can go to sit. The other children can then go over to the bench, and invite that child to play with them. What a great idea! Except when a child places them selves on the Buddy Bench, and then rejects another child's offer of company!!!

Loneliness is a terrible affliction. In his job as a Private Clients Solicitor, my husband, Dave often meets with elderly and bereaved people, in preparing Wills, Trusts and Probate for either themselves or their relatives. He often makes visits to hospitals, hospices and nursing homes, where he meets with people in varying stages of sickness or dementia. Many of the people who Dave meets and helps are lonely people. He sees men whose wives have died. He meets ladies whose children have grown up and left home. He meets very tired and sad people who are watching the "love of their life" dying.

This kind of loneliness is not something I can relate to. My children are young and remain at home. My husband and I are, thankfully, healthy and happy together. My parents live near-by and I am hugely blessed and grateful to be a part of a friendly and loving church community. Having said that, I have felt lonely. I have seen photos on Facebook of events that I've not been invited to. I have been involved in conversations where I do not understand the private joke that everyone else is laughing at.

I once delivered a birthday present to an old friend. When she answered the door, she seemed shocked to see me. She reticently invited me into her home, where a table laden with yummy food had been set. In a rush and with a red face, she explained that her church small group was meeting, and that she had offered to host for the evening. I smiled and made my excuses, knowing full-well that she was having a party, and that I was not invited. Later on that week, I discovered that most of my friends had attended her birthday party. I didn't feel cross, I just felt lonely.

Recently, I have felt a little lonely, but I have chosen to remember some great advice given to me - The way that I feel about something is not necessarily a true reflection of the way things are.

Therefore, my loneliness is a feeling and not an actuality.

Not only are my feelings not always to be relied upon, but neither is my perspective. As I look into the centre of my social sphere, I am unable to see the people outside, looking in. You see, there are always people further from the centre than me.

I often hear that people feel lonely. Either they are feeling the lack of invitations to Sunday lunch, or they wonder why no small groups are relevant to them. They see groups of friends holidaying together, or families joining other families for afternoon outings. As they look on, they find themselves excluded and feeling lonely. As a single mummy, I had to force myself to call my friends, go along to social events and organise my own. I learnt to get past my pride, and involve and invite myself. I thankfully had a some great friends, who were includers.

Sometimes I wonder what life would be like, if we were all includers. If we took a moment to look outside of our social circle and see who was on the edge, how many new friends would we make and many lonely people would feel a part of something. If the lonely people included other in their lives, surely they would be too busy to feel lonely?

Maybe I'm just being naive, but it seems to me, that if we stopped moaning and starting inviting, maybe we'd never feel lonely again. When I include others, I feel far less lonely!! Let's get out of own our heads, get past our pride and invite someone over. Phone someone tomorrow, and arrange to meet for coffee. Leave behind your fear and feelings and look for the person on the edge - the person who needs to be included - and include them.

Change your life, and become an includer!

Disapproval

It is not my place to judge. In fact, not only is it not my place, but as far as the Bible is concerned, it is sinful of me to judge, or be judgemental.
This week, I had a "cyber-chat" with an old friend. Upon reading my blog and seeing my Facebook comments, he could clearly see that my faith in God, and my involvement in church, has significantly grown since we were close friends, during Sixth Form. He has always been very unimpressed with organised religion, and has never made a secret of his suspicions and concerns. But he used a really interesting phrase this week that has remained with me.

"I deeply disapprove of any church stuff."

Those words have been ringing in my head ever since I read them. Deeply disapprove. What do I "deeply disapprove" of? Is there anything that concerns me that much? And if there is, why do I not feel as free as my friend, to express it? Am I giving in to political correctness? Do I actually feel that strongly about anything?

Well, actually, there is something that I deeply disapprove of...I deeply, deeply disapprove of a life with out Jesus. In every part of my heart, soul and mind, I am grieving for those of you who do not have Jesus in your lives. I deeply disapprove of loneliness, and the pressure to survive without any help. I deeply disapprove of a life spent trying to "do the right thing", all the while wasting time on meaningless good deeds, when all you need is the grace and forgiveness of God. I deeply disapprove of a life lived in the lie that everything will be okay, and that "what goes around comes around". I deeply disapprove of a life without the freedom to understand who you really are in Jesus - a loved, cherished and precious child of a loving, all-powerful God. I deeply disapprove of the drab acceptance that we are here by chance, that our amazing minds, bodies and souls are not planned carefully and created for a purpose. I deeply disapprove of a life without the knowledge of true love, a love that spans the ages, is everlasting, completely unconditional and sacrificial. And I deeply disapprove of a lack of hope that God has an amazing plan for our lives and that this life and all that we see, is only the beginning.

I do not disapprove of anyone's choices, lifestyles or beliefs. But I deeply disapprove of you all missing out on the most important thing in all of existence. I desperately long for my precious, wonderful friends to live their lives to the full. The only way to do this is with Jesus. It has nothing to do with relationships, marriage, kids, travel, success, work, finances, holidays, status, promotion, fame, beauty, possessions, or even health. There is only one answer, and only one way.

One Way - Jesus.

Newday!!!!!!! Woo hoo!!!!

"Mummy!!! How many sleeps 'til Newday?"
"Only four!! Woooooooooooooooo hooooooooooooooo!!"

There are somethings that I find even more exciting than my kids do. Newday is one of them. Preparation for Newday is just as exciting as being there. Writing lists. Ticking things off that list. Shopping for shampoo, shower gel and packets of tissues. Making sure that I have a full First Aid kit (even though one will be fully available.) Packing my Bible, notebook and pen. ensuring that I have the right clothes - clothes for sun and clothes for rain. Wellies. Flip flops. Pieces of carpet for wiping feet on. Tent. Tent pegs. Ground sheet. Battery operated lantern. cash for milkshakes, coffee, chips and the bookshop.

What is Newday? Sorry, I got a bit carried away. You see, when it comes to Newday, I do get carried away. Well, Newday is the new Stoneleigh, and Stoneleigh was the new New Generation, and New Generation was the new More Than Conquerors, and More Than Conquerors was the new Downs. I think the Downs was preceded by something, but that was before my time.

All these are (and this is the bit I hate, as no words can describe how amazing they are/were, and the following words definitely do not do them justice) Christian Summer Camps, Gatherings, Festivals, Events. The Downs and Stoneleigh were for all ages, whereas the others, including Newday, are for young people only (obviously with Youth Leaders also...and their kids.)

Basically, we pack up a coach with young people, our kid, bags of unnecessary clothing and equipment, sweets, drinks (non-alcoholic, of course) and excitement. We head up to the Norfolk Showground, where we meet our catering team - a brave bunch from our lovely church, who arrive a day early, pitch our tents for us and prepare for a hard-slog week of cooking for about a million of us, making it feel like home. We pour off the coach, thanking our driving with hip-hip-hoorays and dive into our tents to blow up our airbeds and set ourselves up. At this point, I become rather nostalgic, so please excuse me....

...I remember when, as a teenager, my mum, dad, little brother and I made our way up to Stoneleigh - such exciting times. Ben and I LOVED the journey. We knew it fairly well, and we never tired of it. We didn't even mind that it took a while to drive up there - it was all part of the experience. As we approached the gate, squeals of excitement emitted from the backseat of my dad's car. Upon being welcomed by the registration team, we handed them our forms in exchange for badges, handbooks and a black bin liner...ahh I can smell the campsite now!!! Stoneleigh agricultural ground had a special, unique smell of its own... We'd drive around to our church's allocated site and wave as we saw our friends. Mum and Dad would put the tent up - one year they didn't realise that it had been put up inside out until three days into the week!!!

I'd find my friends, Lucy, Lyndsey, Ilona, Jo, Jayne and Amy and we'd go off, "scouting for boys". Obviously it wasn't all about boys....not that I didn't do fairly well on that front...We'd also find our venue for meetings and then check out the bookshop and food stalls - it was a sign of a good year if we found a Hog Roast van!!

Stoneleigh meant late nights and early rises, to get a hot shower. It meant time with my friends, without my parents worrying where I was. It meant dinners made by my mum on a camping stove of tinned chilli, boil-in-the-bag rice and the occasional cooked brekkie. Tinned potatoes and chicken in white wine sauce from a tin. Stoneleigh meant new books, maybe a new Bible and a new hoodie. Long walks and lazy afternoons by the river. It also meant new developments in my relationship with God, empowering talks where I learnt how to worship God with abandon, and hilariously clear instruction on dating and sex - we ALWAYS went to that talk!!!

As Stoneleigh came to an end, we all really grieved our precious time with each other and with God. We returned to school feeling focused and strong, ready to face the world and the though of not having Stoneleigh felt so scary.

Newday followed, inviting young people to enjoy a week away with out their parents - they'd gone one better!!! By the time it stared, I was too old to go to Newday. Even if I had been the right age, I had gone in my own direction, away from church and away from Jesus.

And so, when the opportunity came for Dave and I and our kids to join the youth at Newday last year, I was hugely excited. You see, I am (thankfully) no longer scouting for boys, or worrying about cool clothes. Neither am I enjoying the easy, run-around-and-do-my-own-thing element of Newday. But I do get to see others doing it. I enjoy great times with the youth - milkshakes with the girls, laying around on sleeping bags chatting to people, eating together in a big marquee, late night hot chocolate and cake, queuing for showers, listening-in to hilarious conversations during our patrol after lights-out and most of all, seeing these cheeky, normal, hormonal, sometimes stroppy kids sold out in worship to Jesus. Last year, I watched tears fall silently down one big brother's face, as his younger brother stepped forward to move into a deeper relationship with God. I saw a quiet and shy young man receive baptism in the Holy Spirit. I witnessed boys praying for their friends, as they became young men together. I heard girls prophesy over one another, and pray for healing. I saw lives changed, hearts broken and the re-building process beginning. I am looking forward to seeing what God will do in the young people this year.

So, as I pack my big stacka-box with raincoats (just in case), plasters and air fresheners - have you ever smelt inside a tent where five 14 year-olds are staying? - I am so excited. I am counting down the hours...

Have a look at the website...are you coming next year?

Wednesdays @ Sally's

About five years ago, I regularly welcomed a group of giggly, noisy, hormonal girls into my house most Wednesday nights. They'd arrive like a whirlwind, all talking at once, laughing far too loudly, shouting to be heard over each other, miraculously being able to talk and listen to each other similtaneously. I'd watch them as they removed their shoes, by flicking them off with their toes, piling their coats up on the banister at the bottom of the stairs, and unwrapping themselves of reams and reams of woolly scarves (one would always be left behind.)

I'd take drinks orders - tea, "fat" Coke, water - and let them pour into the living room, where they'd usually devour a few cakes or biscuits. From the kitchen, I could hear coos and "ahhhs" as they welcomed each other with big hugs, and high-pitched squeals as they exchanged stories about their days at school.

Once drinks were made, I'd return to join them in the living room, where I'd attempt (usually unsuccessfully) to calm and quiet the rabble that was "my youth girlies".

We'd started meeting together after the girls asked if I could help them to spend more time together, and with God. At the time, I had two kids, a gracious, releasing husband (who remains gracious and releasing!!) and a cosy house, so it was easy to make it a regular night, at our home. And so, Wednesdays Nights were born.

Usually, I'd prepare either a Bible study, or a question, or theme to discuss. The girls would then talk...and talk some more. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they cried. They seemed to grow closer and I started to get to know them more.

Ellie, Grace, Emily, Angharad, Laura, Emma and Phily. Lovely girls, all so different. Ellie - just like me, The Drama Queen - full of ideas, full of passion. Grace - The Natural Carer, she'll always look after others first. Emily - The Strong, clever, funny, always does well, with whatever she puts her hand to. Angharad - The Giggler, known as Annie, smiley, cute, everyone's friend. Laura - The Grown Up, hugely mature and endlessly loving. Emma - The Artist, observant, reserved, deeply emotional. Phily - The Baby of the Group - amazingly prophetic, full of potential.

I fell deeply in love with these girls. They had hoodies printed. "God's Girls" on the front, their names on the back, clearly communicating to the world that they belonged to each other, and to God. When I discovered that I was expecting Seth, my youngest child, I told the girls. They seemed very excited. Our Wednesday nights stopped, as my pregnancy progressed. With various illnesses and complications, it became to difficult to continue. But, when Seth was born, the girls held him, and fussed over my other two children. I remember laughing when Annie held Seth. He had been born 6 weeks early and was consequently very small. Annie was also rather tiny, and so they seemed, somehow, to fit!!

When we decided to follow a pull to a new church congregation, my biggest sadness was saying goodbye to this group of lovely girls. I knew that I'd miss out on their maturing and that I'd not be a part of their journeys through school and on to uni. I felt really sad, but I knew they'd not be far and that I'd see them again. I knew that they each had fantastic parents, and that their walks with God were not at all reliant upon my being around.

A while ago, at a party at my parents' house, I chatted to a few of the girls. It was so wonderful to see them and to enjoy their company again. They were just as full of beans as they'd been a few years before.

Two days ago, Annie suddenly died in a terrible car accident. It seems dream-like writing those words. No words seem to qualify in describing her. The Annie I knew, was just really easy to be around. She smiled, giggled, served, helped and loved. She was unusually close to her mum, Anne. She was a delight to know. Annie was incredbily pretty, but clearly had no idea. She seemed to be without ego. I really liked Annie. Everyone did. She was full of beans - such a cheeky monkey.

I hadn't seen Annie for a few weeks, the last time being, as I sat in the crowd of young people at LIFE, the weekly youth event at Kerith Community Church. Annie was lugging various props, and bits of furniture, on and off the stage. She did it quietly, exchanging cheeky smiles with her friends who were speaking to the gathered guests.

We didn't chat, but the next day she sent me a Facebook message - "I didn't get to talk to you last night. Meet for coffee soon?" We didn't have coffee. I haven't properly seen her for ages, but I miss her. I desperately miss her, and I seem to be crying an awful lot. I have cried on the playground, and cried with one of Annie's best friends. I've cried as I've read comments left for her on Facebook and I've cried in the car. I am so very sad. Mainly, I am sad for her family, Anne, Bill, Jonathan and Nick. I am praying for them, asking God to somehow (as only He can) give them all that they need to continue and thrive.

But also, as I remember those noisy Wednesday nights, I am so glad to have shared in the lives of those beautiful, precious girls. I am so glad that for a short time, they let me into their world, their funny, noisy, full-of-beans, crazy world. I still love them all so very much, Annie included, and that will never change. My prayer for all of these girls, is that they will return to a life of laughter, sharing funny stories of their days, and "Fat" Coke. It will never, ever be the same without Annie, but it will be richer for her having been there in the first place.

Oh to be in England!

I love the Summer. I truly thrive in warm sunshine and a gentle breeze. I love hanging my washing out on the line, knowing that it will dry quickly, smelling clean and cosy. I have been abroad during the Summer, but I can honestly say that I prefer an English Summer to the others that I have experienced.

This Summer, it has been exciting in England. With the World Cup looming, flags were hung outside people's windows and on their cars. Wimbledon brought on Murray Madness, as it did, Hopeful Henman Histrionics a few years ago. I've listened to a few radio discussions about national pride and the displaying of our national flag. I've heard people's disapproving comments, claiming flag owners and displayers are "chavy" or racist. I remember walking past various pubs during the 1998 World Cup, when I was at university, hearing chants of "En-ger-land!" and thinking how rowdy and "yobbish" it all was. What a snob I was!!

I am a massive fan of the TV adaptation of "The Darling Buds of May". I love hearing Pop Larkin, played by David Jason, as he explains the wonders of The Garden of England (Kent) to his new friend, Mr Charlton. "Can you imagine, Charlie my old man, a life without strawberries? No cream teas, no strawberries and cream? What about the plums, apples and cherries? No crumble? No lovely pies?" Summer in England wouldn't be the same without these things. In fact, England itself would not be the same.

After a few weeks of real Summer, I have noticed more and more of the things I love about England...

I love carnivals and village fairs.

I love cider, and apple pie with custard.

I love country gardens, and a jug of Pimms.

I love fish 'n' chips and the English seaside.

I love chickens and ducks in pretty country gardens, and picnics in the woods.

I love tombolas and maypole dancing.

I actually really love Morris dancers and thatched cottages.

I love old castles and Royal events. I love red London buses, and black London cabs.

I love the Queen's honours list and old, English showbiz stars.

I love Shakespeare and Chaucer.

I love beautifully-fragranced rose bushes and mighty oak trees.

I love the history and myth of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.

I love foxes and badgers, blue tits and pigeons.

I love homemade jam and round ladies with rosey cheeks.

I love the sunshine, the snow, the rain and the wind.

I love the range of amazing accents of England and the different cultures I see every day.

I love the voice of Dame Vera Lynn, telling us we'll meet again, and the amazing photos of rationed street parties after World War Two.

There is so much more that I love about England. For all our complaints. For all of our English reserve, I love this country. I am a proud English girl and I love to explore our traditions and history and share them with other nations. I hope that we will soon develop a pride in our Englishness. A pride that causes us to include others in our celebration of all that it means to be English - victory, resourcefulness, community.

But in the meantime, I'll just hope, dream...and enjoy the gentle breeze and warm sunshine, as it drys my washing.

My new sister

About two weeks ago, whilst on holiday, I picked up my mobile phone to find that I had missed 11 calls from the same number - my brother, Benji's. I think I knew straight away why he was calling, but I made no comment to Dave or the kids. I just called Benji's number, and he immediately answered. I knew, again, by the sound of his voice, why he had called. So as he told me his news, I was not shocked.

You see, this news has been coming for a while. To be honest, I have known that this news would come for a couple of years now. I have prayed that it would. I have looked forward to it. It is probably the best news I've heard in ages.

Benji and his girlfriend, Heather had been sharing a cream tea on a sunny Sunday morning, by Exeter Cathedral, when Benji decided that he would ask the most important question of his life. When he asked Heather to marry him, she said "yes".

My future sister-in-law, Heather, is probably the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She is tall and slim, with lovely light brown, wavy hair, and big pretty eyes. Heather is funny, smiley and happy. She is gentle and clever. She loves Jesus, and she loves my brother. She has a good relationship with her parents and three siblings, and everyone that meets her is thoroughly impressed by her. She is a head-turner and a heart-warmer, and I love her so very much.

I remember when Benji first met Heather. He and Dave had been to the casting auditions of a church theatre production. They returned "full-of-beans", waxing lyrical about this beautiful girl who might be playing the role of Mary, in a modern-day version of the Christmas Story. They spoke about how pretty she was, and how friendly she seemed. Benji was clearly very impressed, and in the few weeks that followed, I teased and hassled him about when he was going to ask her out!!

I remember that a couple of months later, for Indy's fancy dress birthday party, Heather turned up, dressed as a mermaid. Not only did she look completely lovely, but she clearly was ready for a great time, dressed in bluey-greeny clothes, sparkly make-up and massive flippers!!! I remember thinking how brilliant she was, and how she clearly was not at all interested in impressing anyone, but only in having loads of fun.

Time has passed, and I have seen Benji and Heather grow together, and fall in love. To see my little brother in such a fantastically strong, God-centred and fun-filled relationship has filled me with joy and peace.

Last year, I had the great privilege of spending time with Heather at a Christian women's conference, Cherish. She supported me, cried with me and laughed with me. She encouraged me as I faced some struggles, and made me love her even more.

There's something else that I admire in Heather. She is an adventurer...and independent adventurer. She travels to Finland, all alone, to study for five months. She seeks God independently, and she stands out from the crowd, being herself without fear. All of this she does, with gentleness and humility. I love that.

I have just been looking for a knitting pattern for a delicate wedding shawl for Heather. I don't expect her to wear it, but I really want to make it for her, because I love her. My children love her, my husband loves her, my parents love her and my brother loves her. We love her because she adds something special to our family. She brings humour, creativity, godliness and and peace. And, she completes my brother.

Of all of the women that could have been in my brother's life, Heather is the best. She is more than I could have asked for, for my lovely, precious brother.

I hope that she reads this.

Heather, my treasured new sister. I love you so very much. I look forward to sharing more of our lives with each other. I often boast about my future sister-in-law, and my precious friend. I am so blessed to know you. Please lean on me when you need to. Thank you for saying "yes" to my brother. You really are lovely. You are an answer to prayer. xxx

Productivity and Fruitfulness

Today, so far, has been a fairly productive day. Productivity has not been a word that has been relevant to me for such a long time, but things are changing.

Today, between school and nursery drop-offs, I had coffee with a really precious friend. After we'd exchanged the usual pleasantries and sat ourselves down, I asked one of those "scary" questions. These questions generally relate to something real. I've never been one for shallow conversation (which I'm sure irritates and troubles some people - I must appear very nosey) but I find asking these questions often releases the most amazing friendships. The following questions come under the "scary question" category...

"How are you?....no, really, how are you?"
"So, what do you really want to do with your life?"
"How's your marriage?"
"Can I pray for you?"
"Have I upset you?"
"Are you ok, finacially?"
"How is your relationship with your boyfriend?" (this is VERY scary when posed to one of our gorgeous young people at church!!)

There are so many more, and, as much as I get scared asking them, I love the effects that these questions have.

I asked my friend a scary question. She answered me truthfully. We talked, we laughed, she cried. While we talked, we picked fruit from trees in her garden. She gave the fruit to me, and I brought it home and turned it into jam. This afternoon, I'll drop her pot of jam over to her.

I love making jam - strawberry, gooseberry, plum, raspberry, blackberry, elderberry...it's all good. It also really simple -

Basic Jam Recipe

1 kilo of fruit
1 kilo of granulated sugar
the juice of 1 lemon

1.Put everyhing in a pan, gently heat until the sugar dissolves, bring to the boil.
2.Using a plate that has been sitting in the freezer for a while, blob a drop of jam onto the plate, let it cool, then push your finger through it. If it wrinkles, it's ready. If not, re-boil for another 5 minutes and test again.
3.Pour the jam into sterilised warm jars, lid on, leave to cool.

Three pots of Cherry Jam later....

Today has not been hugely busy. I did a bit of washing-up (no...we do not have a dishwasher!!)made some jam and chatted with a friend. I'm hoping to go gooseberry picking with the kids after school. It may not have been busy, but it has been productive, fruitful...and full of fruit!!!

It is such a privilege to be used by God to stand alongside a friend in need. As my peers suffer, I want to be instrumental in their healing. I want to encourage them as they move closer to living the abundant life that Jesus offers.

Washing the dishes is HUGE for me. After about 9 years of depression, I am feeling very diffierent. I am able to wash, clean, hanging clothes out, put my kids to bed and enjoy my own company withou feeling guilty. God has, and is still, healing me. What an amazing God!!

And so...today I have been thoroughly productive and fruitful, and I feel very satisfied.

I'll be honest...I'm really not sure what to write about for this post. A few things are going around in my head that I do need to get out, to process, but I'm not sure that this is the place to do it. If it is the place to do it, then I'm not quite sure how to word it.

I have always been hugely frustrated by those who "speak their mind" with little regard for the ways in which it may affect others.

I am a huge (and unashamed) Big Brother fan. I love it's reality and I'm rather nosey, so being able to watch the interaction between other people, without feeling like I'm spying, is rather lovely. Obviously, Big Brother tends to feature rather dramatic characters and sometimes some "unsavoury behaviour." But I am not afraid of life in all its shades of black, white and grey. I enjoy eviction nights and the interviews with Davina, but I am hugely irritated by those people who, upon being asked if they have any regrets, reply, "D'ya know what, Davina? I was just being myself and speaking my mind."

When I hear these words being uttered, I want to shout, "Well, good for you!!! How clever you are for allowing all of your own characteristics to shine through (even if some of them are pretty rubbish.)? What a hero...." (note the sarcasm?!?!)

You see, we can all "speak as we find." We are all able to verbalise our opinions and feelings concerning others. It is very easy to make statements, whether helpful and uplifting or not, about the lives and habits of others. But, do we need to? Do we have the right? Should we not just shut up and mind our own business?

As a Christian, I am called (according to the Bible, which I believe to be the Word Of God), to "speak the truth in love". It can be difficult to speak the truth, if the truth may cost you your friendship with someone. If we are speaking the truth to another, it may hurt their feelings or cause them great distress. But it may help them to receive a bit of "tough love" by hearing about ways to improve an area of their lives. So, you see, being honest and real is very important. Many people use this verse from the Bible to justify some pretty harsh and rather sharp criticism. But it is the word "love" that needs to rule. It is from a loving heart that such "truth" should come. So, when we feel a need to "speak into each other's lives", let's do it with love in our hearts.

I have been vigorously shaken in my role as a Mum. I have seriously questioned my motivations in the ways I speak to, listen to, and spend time with my children. I have doubted myself beyond any other previous doubts. I have wondered if I deserve my husband, if I take him for granted and if our marriage is lacking in balance. I have worried, cried, lost sleep, and despaired. I have prayed, read my Bible and shared with close friends.

And I have come to a conclusion. The enemy wants me to fail. He wants me to suffer, and to give up on my children, my family and my marriage. I will not. I shall not be overcome by anxiety. I will not receive the enemy's interference. I will trust in the Truth of the Word of God. He has appointed and annointed me, according to His Will. He will never leave me nor forsake me. He will hide me under His wings. I will trust the truths spoken to me, in love, and I will stand against lies in the name of Jesus.

Yep, that's it...said and done...that is what I wanted to say. It has been processed, and I am free. Sometimes, blogging is so much more than a few comments on life.

The Indy Cooking Show

Thought you'd all like to see the film that my little brother, Benji, made of Indy, my daughter, cooking Gluten Free Chocolate Cupcakes. We didn't get round to filming the "Icing Stage", but we usually make a green-coloured, minty-flavoured butter cream to go on the top. My sons call these cakes "Hulk Cakes". Indy's not so keen on that, as she's far too girly!!!! Maybe I'm biased, but I think she's so cute!!! AND, I love the reality of my kids' relationships with each other, as it is featured towards the end!!!

Rubies

"A wife of noble character who can find? She is worth far more than rubies. Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life." Proverbs 31 verses 10-12

Sometimes it feels like God is really trying to get through to me. When something is mentioned a few times, my ears begin to prick up, like our cats, and I start to pay attention. This week, there is something that keeps coming up....Rubies.

This week, I had the amazing privilege of meeting up with an amazing young woman. As a teacher, she was a regular attender at the Christian Union meetings that I ran. She was always smiling, always friendly. She was very bright, and clearly very thoughtful and sensitive to the needs and feelings of others. Recently, via Facebook, we have been reunited, which has been good, but to meet for coffee this week was just great. We had a good chat and generally caught up. She is now a very successful musician. She is also extremely beautiful, both inside and out. She has continued in her relationship with God and has come to know Him more. She has questioned her faith, lived her life and made great decisions for Jesus. To be honest, I felt so blessed to have been a part of her life as a teenager, and just delighted to know her now.

One of the things that I love about being a Christian is having "intentional" friendships. As a Christian woman, God has called me to many things, one of them is to be a big sister. I'm not talking about the biological type (although being just that to my little brother, Ben, is one of the greatest joys in my life.) In the Bible, in the book of Titus, older women are encouraged to "train" younger women. Surely this is what being a big sister is all about?

My lovely friend and I, had a big sister/little sister chat, whilst enjoying our cuppas. We talked about guys, and about relationships. We talked about marriage, and we talked about love. We discussed what the ideal wife should be like. We talked about the chapter from which the above verses came from. In Proverbs 31 of the Bible, we can read about "The Wife of Noble Character". It is clear that she is more than just a good woman. She is more than a "Yummy Mummy". She is clever and careful, a great business woman. She provides for her children and husband very well. She is a hard worker, and she shows kindness and compassion to those in need.

My friend and I talked about how it seems to be all about what the wife does, but I began to notice the verses about how the wife was treated, viewed and praised by her husband. It was then that I realised that this woman is able to serve so very well, thanks to the praise, encouragement and strengthening of her husband. You see, she would not be able to see her own potential or to live it out, without being treated so well. Her husband reminds her that she is precious to him. He praises her...publicly. He boasts about her to his peers. He is proud to be with her. He releases her to run her own business. He enables her to be productive and to serve outside of the house.

Because of the actions and words of her husband, she is "worth far more than rubies". Because he loves her so well, she makes a massive difference to her children, her friends, her employees, her community. She is not just important to him. To the world, she is "worth far more than rubies".

Rubies are quite interesting. There are two kinds of rubies - natural and cultured. Cultured rubies are made by human hands. They are the result of a chemical process - a beautiful one, but a chemical process none-the-less. Natural rubies occur naturally, and they are extremely rare. In fact, natural rubies are so rare that they are worth far more than diamonds.

Rubies are striking in colour. When I make Raspberry Jam, it's that "Ruby Red" colour that I wait for to know that the jam has reached it's boiling point. Only then can I pour my "Ruby Red" Raspberry Jam into warm, sterilised pots, wait for it to cool and smother all over a piece of crusty white bread....mmmmmm.

Rubies are beautiful, rare and striking. I love rubies.

This week, my mum and dad celebrate their Ruby Wedding Anniversary. They have been married for 40 years. Their marriage has lasted - a rare thing in this "day and age". They have produced two children, and have served God, and their church, together for years. They have many friends, and have survived recessions, unemployment, sickness, grief and great trials. I think that this is beautiful. Their commitment to each other is striking. Other people notice it and are inspired and encouraged, that they can make it in their marriages, too.

So, what is God saying to me? If rubies are rare, beautiful and striking, and I am worth far more than them...am I rare, beautiful and striking? If I follow in my parents footsteps, will my life reflect the beauty of a ruby? If I serve, bless and enjoy...will other people see me as striking? Will I stand out and shine?

I'm not sure...but I am so grateful for a God who creates such beautiful gems...and then tells me that, to Him, I am worth far more. Thank You, Lord.

The "New"

I'm feeling a bit odd at the moment. I'm feeling a bit on edge...a bit impatient...a bit...well, fidgetty. After making a decision to close one door, I know that another will open.....but what will it be?

You see, I LOVE new adventures. Since the age of 16 my life has been pretty unpredictable and constantly changing. A'Levels, a new school, new relationships, Uni, leaving home, different creative projects, teacher training, a new home town, a new job, a new and unexpected baby, a new husband, a new house, another new baby, another new house, pet rabbits, another new baby, two rabbit funerals, a new kitten, her new kittens, a new church, another new rabbit, a new set of friends, a new business, a TV appearance, another lost rabbit, more kittens, a new cat, new hobbies, new friends, new nurseries and schools......bit mad really, but I thrive on change. I love new stuff. I enjoy new possessions and new places to visit. I find making new friends fun and easy. New is good. New is exciting. New is satisfying. New makes me happy.

So.....here we are...me and Dave, three kids, busy home, car journeys, church activites, vet bills, gas bills, water bills, electricity bills, parents evenings, gardening, cleaning, trips to the rubbish tip, shopping for food, family occasions, meetings, car servicing, car taxing...bla bla bla.

"Me and Dave" is good. We try to spend special time together, including date nights and weekends away. We try to keep things new and exciting in all sorts of ways....hee hee hee. I can tell him (and he is helpful) when I'm feeling "the need for new"!!!

With our kids, I try to keep things pretty fast-moving and fun, as well as times of calm and peace. Random trips to the seaside, silly dinners, theme nights and special time together.

But as for the rest, I just have to get on with the mundane bits of life. I REALLY do not enjoy them. In fact, I avoid them, running for the hills, screaming, "Leave me alone!!" Mundane is boring. Mundane is mind-numbing. Mundane makes me want to shout, hit and scream. Mundane drives me mad. It's so...so... mundane!!

My poor, darling husband has to deal with my constantly itchy feet. "Let's get chickens!! Let's move far away!! Let's go out!! We should decorate that room!! We should buy a B&B!! What about setting up our own business?!" There have been a few times that Dave's come home to find various jobs around the house and garden that I've started - steaming off wall paper, painting furniture, moving shelves around, digging up various plants. He's very patient with me. He often finishes off the jobs that I start, and get bored of. He is kind and loving, and he gently reminds me of reality every now and then.

And you see, that's another problem with loving "new". I get bored very easily and very quickly. I have felt, for a long time, that this is a failure on my part and that, somehow, I would need to correct this fault in my character. Until a conversation with a lovely lady from our previous church, I had felt that that problem was my not finishing things. This wonderful lady explained to me that my starting things was what was important, and that God had given me this passion, boldness and ability in starting new adventures, for His purposes.

So, I have begun to really enjoy starting things. I have come to terms with the fact that I love "new", and that my passion, inspiration and boldness enable others to continue with great things that I start.

So, as one door closes, I am praying for another to continue what I started. I am praying for the humility to pass my adventure onto another, who will take it to greater heights. I am praying, also, for my new adventure...what will it be? I am praying for the patience to wait until my new adventure begins. But, most of all, I am praying that I will find the "new" in the mundane, in the everyday, and that I will enjoy the adventures that already sit at my feet.

This evening, I had some news. A precious friend is moving away. I've had news like this many times before.

When I was 11, my friend, Lyndsey, moved away. Her family moved away with her dad's job. He was to beceome the pastor of another church, in another town. When Lyndsey and her sister, Jo, left our church and our town, I grieved. I cried before they went, I cried as they went, I cried once they'd gone. I missed the little notes that Lyndsey passed in church. I missed her lovely giggle. I missed her hugs and I missed being around her.

When I was 12, my best friend at school, Ella, moved away. Her parents decided to relocate to the countryside. I deeply grieved. I remember standing in the school hall at break time on the day after she left. I stood alone and looked around, for the first time understanding the phrase, "being alone in a crowd". I missed Ella's house and her music. I missed the times when we made up songs, and went shopping for useless bits of tat. I missed us wearing matching stripey tights and Kicker boots. Before she went, I predicted, "I'll miss your little chicken legs." I missed her...so, so much.

When I was 17, my boyfriend, Azar, moved with his parents to another country. They owned a house in the mountains of Mallorca, and had planned to move their permenantly for some time. At the end of our A'Levels, with a few friends,I drove him to the airport, hugged and kissed him goodbye, cried and watched him walk through the gate. He left. I cried.

As I heard the news of my friend's plans this evening, I immediately hurt. I do not feel pain on my own behalf. I feel pain for one of her children, and for her best friend. I have been crying since. I can feel the pain that these two friends are feeling. I know how frightened they feel. Every now and then, I suddenly feel extremely sad, remembering that they will be separated.

You see, I sat with these girls as they cried together, over an incident of bullying. I have seen them have fun together and laugh until tears run down their faces. I have seen photos of their holidays tgether and I've heard some of their "funny stories". I have had breakfast withthese girls as they discuss their favourite food, which of course is the same. I have seen these girls' friendship and sheer devotion to each other.

My heart breaks for them. I understand the loss that they will feel. I remember the feelings of loss from my own experiences and, to be honest, it still seems to hurt. It hurts right now, as I write. I wish that these lovely girls would not have to suffer in this way. Compared to the suffering of the loss I wrote about in my last entry, this may seem trivial. But, it is not. I know that these girls will cry themselves to sleep tonight, as I did. I know that these girls will deeply mourn and that they will never forget the pain.

My intention, as I made clear to both girls this evening, is to remain close and not leave them. I am committed to showing love, kindness and support to them both. Because, it hurts. They will find new friends, and they will continue to move through all of the stages of friendship. Even in their old age, they will meet other women with whom they will share so much. But, for now...they are cherishing every moment of their time together, and every moment of the most precious friendship that they have ever known.

My Legacy

Today, I went to a funeral. When I say "I went" what I mean is, I sat outside in the foyer of the church building, looking after a friend's little girl, while my friend attended the aforementionned funeral. However, as I sat outside in the foyer, I had the great privilege of being able to hear the worship - some amazingly stirring and faithful hymns, like How Great Thou Art. I also heard the various shared memories from family and friends. I heard tears and laughter. I heard great stories, both funy and deeply moving. I heard about a life.

I didn't know Karena very well. She and I had attended the same church, at one point. Her family had been a part of the team that had planted a new church, and so just after I arrived, they left. She has prayed with me once. I had heard her speak from the stage quite a few times. She had what is called a Prophetic Gifting. She often "heard" or sensed what God wanted to say at a particular time and she would share it with the gathered church. She had her third baby, shortly before I had my first and so we chatted in creche a few times. I liked her. She seemed very wise and godly. She seemed very calm and together.

I learnt more about her today. Apparently, she was fun, impulsive and adventurous. She was disorganised and funny. She was passionate and loving. Today she was even described as "crazy". She loved her husband, she loved her kids, and she loved Jesus. She read the Bible a lot. She loved God's word. She loved speding time with other women. She loved a good cappuccino. She was creative.

Karena's brave, loving and faithful husband, Craig, spoke about her. He read an entry from her journal. It had been written three months before she had died. She had written a prayer as a part of the entry. She prayed for her children and for her marriage. She prayed that God would strengthen her and Craig. She prayed, most passionately, for her children, and their faith and relationships with God. She was desperate that despite her death and their suffering, her children would remain close to God, fully relying on Him for all their needs.

At the end of the service, people flooded out of the auditorium, many in tears. Craig and Karena's two young daughters emerged, surrounded with younger children who held their hands. The girls smiled and laughed as they spoke with expression and kindness to the little children holding their hands as they went off to explore the building. Craig and Karena's son smiled as two friends approached him, as if he was encouraging them that everything would be okay. I was amazed. I know that children tend to grieve differently to adults and that each person deals with bereavement in their own way. But as we read Craig's blog before Karena died, it was abundantly clear that these children were being parented in a unique way.

We read of video nights with duvets and popcorn, afternoons of board games and reading funny books, and an amazing time, when Karena prayed for, and prophesied over each one of her children, in turn.

As her children emerged from the auditorium, Karena's legacy was obvious. She has a legacy of godliness, gentleness, generosity, kindness, fun, adventure and solid, real faith in God. Undoubtedly, throughout their lives, her children will greatly miss and mourn her. Her loss will be felt strongly in so many places, families and churches. But, together her and Craig have done something outstanding in their children. They have raised them to know Jesus. They have shown them that death is not the end. They have given them hope - a sure and certain hope of being reunited with God and with their mum. What a Legacy. They will remember their mum reading her Bible, looking after other families, having fun with her friends, thanking God for the big and little things, and enjoying her life - every minute of it.

It makes me think...what will my legacy be? What will I leave behind? Who will I impact? What will I change for the better? Will people know The Truth because of me? Will people see good in me and be inspired by it? Will I live out God's plan for my life, without holding anything back?

I've decided to start now. So...here we go...My friends, as you read this blog, I want you remember one thing about me...here it is... I am passionate about showing YOU how much God loves you. He sent His Son to die for YOU. He did this, so that you would be able to LIVE your life to the full, feeling loved, accepted and alive. If you want to know that life, all you have to do, is ask God to change you, from the inside out, and ask Him to help you to learn more about His Son, Jesus. This is the beginning of an amazing journey, that I am on. It is exciting and challenging and adventurous. It is satisfying and fulfilling and strengthening. Please will you do this? Don't wait until I die - just do it right now, where you are sitting, reading this blog entry. I'd much rather share your New Life with you now, than miss out on it.

Today, a lovely friend made request for another blog entry - not sure that this is what you expected!!! But, I am tired of being too scared and worrying about offending people... We all need to be loved with that everlasting, all-encompassing love that only comes from God.

St Valentine's Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Precious"...really?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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