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.