Being (sometimes) beats doing.

I'm having a poorly week. Lungs infected again and this time it's hit me pretty hard. For nearly 4 days I've hardly been able to crawl out of bed, though I made it downstairs last night in a somewhat jelly like state. What it did mean is that I couldn't do anything on the To Do list I'd been stressing over at the end of last week, and had to leave things be.

Now, at first, this frustrates me greatly. I am far too much an activist to be ill, and yet I'm ill so much you'd have thought I'd have learned by now to sit back and be graceful and lovely or something. But instead I mutter and annoy Tim about the mess downstairs and the to do pile. That is unless it's a really bad day, in which case I'll say nothing at all and give him some peace ;)

This time however, I've found something different. I found I could connect with God again. How does this work? In the last few weeks I've been busy but praying, but finding God's presence just...well, wasn't there. Or was, but not anywhere I could find it. Even in the asking. But it's when I get really poorly I finally find what I have been searching for. Just gently, just whispers, senses, something changing in the atmosphere, and suddenly I know it. God's with me.

Now, I know, of course, that this is always the case, but let's face it, it's not something that's always tangible. So here's the question: Why is it that it's in the time of the most suffering that God reveals Godself more tangibly? God could just heal me, or something, but instead there's this amazing grace, this gentle love, this awesome presence weaving through my pain. I almost think these times are a gift in some way.

Now, this doesn't happen every time I'm ill, don't get me wrong. There will be those times I just feel devoid of it all and wonder where God is anyway and grumble and feel generally sorry for myself. But just occasionally there is this grace, if I allow it. And it's pretty good.

So where does that leave me? Is being poorly better than being well? Is being better than doing? Well....hmmmm. No, being ill is not better. I'd have happy lungs if I could. But I think we could all do well to stop sometimes. To slow down and be, and let God find us in that vulnerability and lack of activism.

When I get better and get up will I remember this? Maybe. Or maybe I'll start stressing about my to do list. There must be a balance somewhere, I feel...

What do you do?

Whenever I go someplace new or meet new people, I always get The Question, and I have come to dread it somewhat. The question 'what do you do?' It's like we as a society buy into all the 'what we do defines us' stuff, and it comes out in the first question we ask a new person.

Now, I'm not completely innocent of this myself. Let's face it, it's often a conversation starter, and can help get a picture of a person. But for the person who doesn't feel able to respond with anything much it can be at best cringeworthy and at worst depressing or even terrifying. You're stood there thinking 'she'd going to ask what I do in a minute, and I'm going to have to say nothing, and she's going to be thinking this or that' etc. When in all reality we know they won't really be thinking very much at all apart from the mechanics of being friendly, because that is generally all it is.

I think there's something deeper behind the whole question that makes those who feel they don't 'do' less than useful. It's like you have to do to be worthy, to be productive, to contribute to society. But do you? Is your worth in your productivity? I think not.

Creativity and productivity are of course important and beneficial to our humanity. But there is the question of who we are which goes deeper than anything we do. For me, how God sees me is 100% more important than any label I can give myself, and I know that God's more concerned with stuff like compassion and justice than whether I have a job. And so that's what I'll strive towards, even in my worst times.

I keep pondering on good answers to The Question. For a while I really rebelled and told people I 'slobbed round watching Jeremy Kyle and eating cake all day', and for a while decided to be honest and tell people I used to teach but now I can't because I have lung disease. But I don't really like that one because it has undertones of not being any use any more. It's also possibly a bit in your face to start listing health woes as soon as you meet someone, poor individual! So I generally mutter a bit about working in a team with Tim, doing bits and bobs of admin and voluntary work and web stuff etc, but that's muffing it all up really, and again coming up with something that is endeavouring to label what I do, endeavouring to sound like I am of use.

One day I'll have the bravery to answer something such as 'what do I do? You mean who am I? A child of God.' And that is where it's at, because I don't need to be more than that.

However, I know in reality I'll keep dreading it and keep avoiding it and keep giving half answers. Because I'm English, and polite, and all that, and not very brave really. Never mind.

Days Like These

So, what do I do with days like these?

Today is officially our Day Off, so I am officially allowed to relax. I also seem to have picked up a chest infection and feel that slight run-over-by-a-bus sensation, so that kind of puts a dampener on stuff like going out for lunch or mucking around the garden.

So why do I feel slightly guilty about....ahem....doing Nothing? I am poorly, but not poorly enough to be utterly laid out. If that was so, I would be nowhere near this puter. I am in an in-betweeny stage of poorliness, which is very annoying. There's a part of me telling me that I should be Being Productive, and not in the physio sense (Brussians will get this) But the other part saying chill, it's OK to Mumsnet all day, it's OK to watch rubbish daytime TV and it's OK to download more books onto my Kindle.

So on days like these, I need to find a way of being that doesn't make me feel bad about not doing stuff like starting to be Pioneer-ish. On days like these, perhaps it's OK to say that I have few spoons, so I will watch This Morning, drink tea and Be Happy.

Pioneers R Us!

Since the Adventurous Pair are back at school, and I no longer have the excuse of the mania of school hols and moving, I thought I had better re-start this neglected blog.

I wanted to as well because I am so excited about our new life here in Priorslee. It's mixed with so many emotions, sadness at leaving Stoke amongst them, but it's great to see how so many of the little things have worked out so well so far <almost like there's a God, or something ;D)

Last night Adventure Bloke officially became a pioneer minister, although he thinks that he too should have been presented with a large bag of maltesers to 'make him strong for the task ahead', as Adventurous Pair were, to their delight (especially after being told they were being given rice pudding.) The Licensing Service was awesome, I think, although I may be a leetle biased. All those who took part did a sterling job and made it into such a powerful and inspiring evening. Pioneer Ministry is a very different animal to being a vicar in an established church, and it was great that the service reflected that. I loved that we were commissioned as a family, God's call is on all of us.

But now we are Pioneers, what do we do next?

Please phone or text with any answers.....:D

We can't wait to get stuck in, actually, and see what God's up to here in Priorslee, who's in it with us, where we go from here. Bring it on.

Pondering on endings

So, we're in the very last week of school. Adventure Girl was sent off from Guides in style on Friday and Adventure Boy from Beavers yesterday. They both had mixed feelings; happiness from the love and care shown to them and the fun they've had, sadness from moving on. Adventure Boy says to me 'what if the new Beavers don't like me? Or don't do football?' Much as I can assure him they will, my feelings are with his, and I find myself thinking 'what if they don't like me? What if the school gate mums ignore me?' <Funnily enough, not 'what if they don't do football?>

It's such a time of bittersweet wonderings. Stoke has been amazing. I love the people here. I can only stand back in wonder and see what God has done. How can I go on from this place into the unknown? Especially to such a role - a church plant? Sometimes I'm overcome with excitement. More often, I'm left thinking 'what on earth are we doing?'

But today I am sad. The school week is crammed with last things. I can't get to many due to spoons being in short supply this week, but I'll do what I can. Tears are near!

It's not really an ending though, I suppose. It's all just part of God's great plan, and woven in with where we were before and where we will be next. A step on the journey. A stage in the Great Adventure. And so we can do it, we can embrace it, we can go for it.

But a little piece of me will always be in Stoke.

Tapestry ponderings

At our Thursday coffee group today we were thinking about waiting for answers to prayers, and waiting for God to act, and what about when God doesn't, and all that. We looked at the stories of Sarah and Hagar in the bible, thinking about how Sarah must have felt, having been promised for years that she would have a baby who would be the first of many descendants, and yet the promise seemed unfulfilled, and impossible now, having gone through the menopause.

If I were Sarah, I think I'd have shouted at God a little. 'You promised...but nothing. Are you there? I've had to live through years of hurt and humiliation. How can I trust in you?' Can't blame her really for taking matters into her own hands and trying to make it happen by getting her servant to sleep with her husband. The wait was far from over then: Often I've read this as Sarah having Isaac pretty well straight after Hagar had Ishmael, but it struck me this morning that it was another thirteen years before the angels visited to remind them of the promise, and who knows how long after that before Sarah was actually pregnant. She must have given up any hope, really.

One of the girls at my group reminded me of a poem I'd heard yonks ago about tapestries. The premise being that we see the back of the tapestry, the mess, the chaos, and have no idea of the big picture. So what we go through often seems to make no sense, and we cannot understand why God doesn't answer our prayer as we hope, and why God lets us go through such times. We see glimpses of shapes and colours, and catch edges of hope and beauty. But with this image we will one day see the beautiful picture. It's in the chaos now that we need to trust in the promises, and let those tiny glimpses of hope carry us and enliven us and thrill us.

I found a version of this poem often used by Corrie Ten Boom, a Jewish Christian lady who survived one of the Nazi death camps, Ravensbruck. For her to utter such words takes them above the cliched, the monotone, the obvious. She saw more suffering there than most of us ever see, yet believed and trusted in God's great plan.

My life is but a weaving between my God and me,
I do not choose the colours; He works so steadily.
Oft times He weaves in sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and me the underside.
Not till the loom is silent, and the shuttles cease to fly,
Will God unroll the canvas, and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weavers skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

There is something profound in this, something that speaks of living through dark times, of not knowing why, of more than we understand. It's not a 'God always knows best, just accept his plan' thing. More of a 'there is so much more than this. So much we could never know, and we will trust, we will hope, we will know that one day we will see clearly.'

For now, I am content to see edges of sharp colours, shadows of exciting shapes. I'll probably keep shouting 'why?' at God, and questioning, and rightly so.  But I'll live in the hope seeing 'the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned'.


Thanks to Pauline for the tapestry analogy today :)

Benefit Scroungers R Us

I am seriously worried about the future. Not so much for me, because I am blessed to have the support I have, but for those people suffering from chronic illnesses and disability who are running out of options.

You may think I am being somewhat over dramatic here, but in reality, there is a problem, and it is being hidden, and there is a systematic assault on the very people who need protecting most. But the news doesn't report this. The voices are dim, the fights are weak. The most vociferous are often the most suffering. And this is wrong.

A couple of weeks back there was a march against the DLA/ESA reform in London, called the Hardest Hit. It barely featured in the 1 O Clock news, let alone the 6/10pm slots. Was almost one of those afterthoughts - those 'aah, isn't this nice, people in wheelchairs out for the day' type things. And then came the Daily Mail type comments; 'if they can get down to London to protest, they can jolly well work and stop scrounging off the taxpayers money'. There is a lack of empathy pervading society that shocks me and leaves me cold, and yet this could be just round the corner for any one of us.

I had a look at the new proposed criteria for the 'Personal Independence Plan' and only became more worried about the narrowing of criteria and the loss of dignity this will inevitably bring. I fear that many will now be caught in a trap; that of not being 'disabled enough' to gain disability benefits, and yet being too ill to be employed, not being able to get JSA because of not being able to get to the Jobcentre due to illness or lack of mobility, having lost mobility allowance....and so on, and so on. A vicious circle of ever decreasing proportions which may leave some at best housebound and despairing and at worst - well, let's not go there. As a society which prides itself on looking after its most vulnerable citizens, we are in danger of falling into a pit of unseen depths. If you still think I am being dramatic, please take some time to read this to see how this is already affecting thousands.

For me as a Christian, this is affecting me so much because of how we see people. Are people valuable, or are they commodities? Do people matter because they are people, because they are who they are, or because of what they can bring to society? As someone who believes all are made in God's image and all are inexplicably precious and amazing, it feels like these reforms may be devaluing and cutting off those who cannot fight for themselves, and this is utterly contrary to God's ways.

For me as someone with chronic illness, this is affecting me so much because I am reliant; on my family and on society as a whole to live. Perhaps for those who have no support system their thinking will soon verge on whether they have any value at all, whether it is worth fighting, whether it is better to give up, and stop burdening others.

I am worried about the future. The future looks cold. What are we going to do about it?