Breathing like a fish...

Have you ever seen Finding Nemo? (Stay with me, I'm almost sure I have a point)

There's a moment near the beginning of the film just after (*spoiler alert*) Nemo has been caught by divers when Marlin, his Dad, comes to the surface of the water desperately looking and calling for his son. But of course, he's a fish, so he can only exist above the water for a very limited amount of time. 

So he has to plunge back into the water to take a life-prolonging "breath" (no, I don't understand how fish work and it seemed like too much hassle to look it up) before he can come up again and look and call some more. 

Right now I relate to Marlin! I gave birth to a ridiculously wonderful little boy 16 days ago. And since then (highlights including the expected sleep deprivation, 2 unexpected bouts of mastitis, re-learning how to breastfeed, and Little Miss getting a sickness virus), it's felt a lot like I've been frantically swimming around on the surface existing on the last "breath" I managed to take in some time before Baby arrived.

And this morning as Baby sleeps on me and Little Miss eats her breakfast I am realising that I need to follow Marlin's example if I'm going to be able to continue on my own adventure. 

I need to plunge into the depths and breathe deep the life-giving water I find there. Not the depths of the ocean, but the depths of the One who created it.

As the song says: "there I [will] find you in the mystery; in oceans deep my faith will stand."* 

There have been times in my life when maintaining my spirituality has felt like another task for the to do list, one more thing that needs to be gotten out of the way so I can continue on with the rest of life without feeling guilty. 

And then there are times like now. When it is so undeniably clear to me that life can only be found and sustained when I plunge headfirst into the living water that is provided for me in abundance - and breathe deep. That's the only way I'm going to get through this day, tomorrow, and whatever may be around the corner (and I'm hoping that writing it down here will help me next time I forget...)

So if you need me, I'll be over here, taking some time to breathe like a fish. 

*Oceans, by Hillsong 

The Clichéd New Year's Resolution Post

Making resolutions is a favourite hobby of mine. It's part list-making, part unbridled optimism, and part beating yourself up - three things which come very naturally to me, and so I am enthusiastic about bringing them together.

I have never worried about limiting my resolution-making to "the season" (as it were) but I do tend to get a bit reflective at this time of year, and that usually leads to some resolution-type thoughts floating around waiting to be attended to.

I'm rather pragmatic about all of this, by the way - I reckon a couple of months (weeks? days?) of something good which then fizzles out is better than no time spent on the good thing at all. And you never know, this might be the time something sticks and my life is changed forever (the aforementioned unbridled optimism really does come in handy).

So today - as I have woken up late (late being 8.45am. Little Miss slept for 14 HOURS bless her wonderful soul!), packed bags, said goodbye to family, driven home, unpacked bags, cried a little over the last Miranda, and still not watered the poor, flagging Christmas tree - there has been a list taking shape in the back of my head that I am finally allowing myself to attend to.

I'm not going to share everything on that list, but as item number seven appeared on the paper, I realised words had been put to something that's been hanging around the outskirts of my consciousness for a while, and that I wanted to record it here.What I wrote was as follows:

"Be less afraid, less ashamed and more me."

To be honest, I wouldn't exactly call that a resolution; it's very different to the other items on my list. I like to set myself quantifiable goals, things I can tick off when they have been achieved. (For the record, I regularly add things to lists after I have done them, just to tick them off. I'm not even ashamed about it.) But as I let my brain wander over the things I plan to focus on this year, I got that funny feeling in my stomach which I have come to associate with God's voice breaking in to my situation (by the way, does anyone else get the stomach thing? Probably no-one does). And then I wrote that sentence.

And I realised I have lost some of my freedom. I don't know what exactly has been the cause. Possibly the transition I've made over the last 18 months from "woman" to "mother" - it is the best thing I have done or will ever do, but it does some funny things to your understanding of your Self. Possibly the move we made in September, leaving our community of more than ten years to follow God's call to a new job (a job share actually, between me and my husband) in a new church in a new city - I've never experienced having to begin again and establish so many relationships from scratch before.

I guess it doesn't really matter what the cause has been. What matters is that I don't remain where I am today. I believe that there is more to life than this. (I actually can't type that without thinking of the Zoolander quote I once used on some Alpha publicity "There must be more to life than being really, really, ridiculously good looking.") More to life than a feeling of needing to hold back in case...in case what? In case vague fears become reality and I am rejected somehow, or laughed at, or I fail.

I am looking for the freedom to be just exactly who I am and to accept that is all I can be and to know that it is enough. And I want to experience the fullness of life that I believe is part and parcel of that freedom. And I so badly need Jesus, in whom I believe all freedom and true fullness of life can be found.

So, to make a start down the path to being less afraid, less ashamed and more me (and handily beginning resolution number four), over the next couple of weeks I will be meditating on and memorising this verse, spoken by Jesus:

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came so that they may have life, and have it abundantly." (John 10:10, NASB)

 
Are you making any resolutions for 2015?

This is my Sabbath, tell me yours

Last week, my doctor told me that "what I really need" (in order to shake this nasty virus that keeps stealing my voice) is a couple of days of rest, preferably with someone else watching Little Miss. I actually laughed in her face! 

This is the real world, I told her (well, actually, I just thought it in my head, because laughing at her was already a little rude, and also, the virus had stolen my voice). 

In the real world (said my brain) you can't just stop and rest, because while you are trying to rest you will just be worrying about having even less time to do all the GAZILLION things that you didn't have enough time to do before you tried to rest.

Then I went to church on Sunday evening and it was a bit like (read "exactly like") God laughed in MY face...

I already knew the topic was going to be Sabbath. 
I already knew I had to pay proper attention because one of my lovely young people couldn't make it and had asked me to let her know "the gist" of what was covered. 
I already knew that setting aside time to rest, renew and restore is something God wants me to prioritise.
I already knew that God made me as a human being, not a human "doing".
But I had forgotten.
I'd forgotten that it's not me that makes the world happen!
I'd forgotten that we are supposed to "work from rest, rather than rest to work."*
I'd ignored the fact that "not taking Sabbath is a sin."**

Eeshk. (No, not a word, but the best group of letters at my disposal to describe precisely my state of being at that moment).

So then we had our discussion time, and a question posed was - what does your Sabbath look like? What can you give your time to and guarantee that you will come out the other side refreshed and renewed? What helps you pause and breathe and thank? 

And the answer was out of my mouth before my brain had even cottoned on (not an unusual occurrence for me). "Writing." 

Writing is where I find my stillness, my rest, my peace. It's not my only Sabbath, but it's a very important one that I have been neglecting. So here I am. This is my Sabbath. What's yours? (Really - I am very interested and actually asking you! Let me know in the comments!)


*Mark Buchanan
** Pete Scazzaro

It's a small, small world

With the recent arrival of my daughter, many things in my world seem to have suddenly shrunk. My life is looking very different. It now revolves around twenty weeny fingers and toes, piles and piles of miniature clothing too cute to be believed, and short, snatched bursts of activity or sleep (it's taken two sittings to complete this post, and guess what - it's shorter than my usual offerings!)

And I believe God is teaching me something kind of big through all this small-ness (of course it's a word - you know what it means don't you?) 

I am someone who tends to measure my worth by my achievements. I can't count the number of wise and helpful spiritual friends who have tried to help me see that I am a human "being" not a human "doing" and that it's ok to sit still sometimes and just "be". That if I can't "do" or if what I "do" doesn't meet expectations, my value does not decrease. I know all of that to be true. It's just that I've never quite managed to apply it to my life.

When I was suffering with depression, I was unable to do what I was used to doing or wanted to do. I was so blessed to find that the people around me in general, and God in particular, didn't reject me, forget about me, or punish me for my lack of achievement. But that didn't change my focus on getting better so I could go back to "doing".

Now what I am "doing" is looking after my baby girl. Some days I don't see anyone except for her and my husband. I find I have little to add to a conversation that doesn't revolve around the wonders of cloth nappies (they do look lovely on my washing line!), cleaning up sick (you get significantly less thorough as time goes on...) or the trials of breastfeeding (this probably isn't the arena for that though, right?) And I am surprisingly unbothered (also a word) by the fact that my contribution to wider society is currently - well - small. That's not the lesson I'm learning, though. 

Here's the lesson:

I can (and absolutely do) sit for hours holding my child or watching her and I am blown away by how amazing she is, how precious, how I would literally do anything for her. And what has she done? Nothing. Nothing anyone would call an achievement, anyway. She sleeps, eats, cries, smiles, poos, coos, cwtches, wriggles and sneezes and yet she is the most utterly priceless thing in the universe.

And maybe so am I.

Thoughts about Thinking (aka An Exercise in Avoidance)

So there has been a LONG gap between posts. I feel as though I should apologise, although I'm pretty sure no-one has been on tenterhooks for the last 9 months waiting for an update. I'm sorry anyway though, mostly to myself, as this is more proof (as if I needed it) that I can be inconsistent and hugely lacking in discipline - even when the task at hand is something that is both good for me and that I enjoy.

9 months is a pretty significant time-lapse don't you think? Not least because as I sit here typing, I am 4 days away from my EDD (that's Estimated Due Date, for those of you who don't spend half your current existence lurking on pregnancy and birth forums), and mostly trying to convince myself that hubby and I are completely ready to welcome Baby Girl Dobbo into our lives! (Which we're almost certainly not. But that's ok - it will just happen anyway and we'll figure it out as we go. Right?)

It's been an interesting journey. One of the more difficult aspects was coming off my antidepressants when I discovered I was pregnant (something I was hoping do a little later and rather more slowly than ended up being the case). Although that was by no means an easy process, and the aftermath was pretty tough, I am through it, and today I'm in a better place than I've been for a long time - a much better place than I would have imagined if I'd thought about it beforehand.

But I didn't. Think about it beforehand. And that is a theme of my life. I don't think. Well, obviously I think. I don't think there's anyone who actually doesn't think. The name of this blog is an admission that I think. But it's that pre-thinking, thinking-about-the-future, that I find a struggle. I am generally focused on the present. My mind is taken up with whatever is in front of me at a given time. I find it difficult to reflect internally (hence blogging is a useful tool for me) and even more difficult to consider the future in any meaningful way. So, if you don't mind indulging me, I would like to spend a little time thinking about that now. Thinking about how I think.

 How the way I think can be helpful:

• I can usually focus on the task at hand regardless of potential distractions from other areas.
• I don't find decision-making particularly hard, I'm generally happy to think of a way forward that is "good enough" and go for it, figuring that I'll deal with any problems if/when they present themselves.
• I don't worry as much as some others I know who are deeper thinkers (when I'm well, anyway).
• I am rarely disappointed when things don't go the way I imagined/wanted/expected, because I never thought that far ahead anyway!

How the way I think can be harmful:

• I can stick my head in the sand and ignore something, even something major, incredibly effectively. Sadly, this does not mean the major thing goes away and at various times I have found myself left woefully unprepared.
• If I don't write things down I will usually forget them and never think of them again. To-do lists and phone reminders are a matter of survival in my day-to-day life. (In the same vein; if I don't reply to a text immediately, I am very unlikely to ever reply at all. I know that's really rude and that I've probably done it to you and if so, I am genuinely sorry).
• I often find myself unable to express why I do what I do, or believe what I believe, because although I know I have reasons, I usually haven't taken enough time to examine them.
• I tend to take things and people at face value and hardly ever question the motives of others, which can make me quite vulnerable.

Well, there you go, all that first-rate thinking has thoroughly tired me out now, so I will stop there. I would imagine that the next time I post, I will be a Mum (but let's not think about that now, not when dinner needs cooking and I need to renew my tax disc and I should probably put some laundry on......)

Thanks very much for reading this rather existential post - I would be interested to hear how you relate to any of this - how do you think, and how does that help/hinder you?

10 things I learned in my 20s

Well, it happened. On Sunday 29th July I turned 30. Thirty! I have been spoiled rotten by hubby, family and friends over the last few weeks, and now I'm just about ready to step into this new decade. As I do so, I want to share some of the "wisdom" I have picked up (mostly the hard way) over the last ten-ish years. I shared some of this in church a few weeks ago, but there was more brewing so I thought this was the place to get it out there. It's a serious biggie, so feel free to skim!

So here goes. Ten things I learned in my Twenties:

One. I am not the answer.
When I was a student, I felt as though if I didn't do something about the problems I saw around me, no-one would. If I didn't feed the homeless, get involved in people's relationship difficulties, or voice my opinions loudly and regularly, the world just might stop turning! It was partly arrogance, but more so it came from a deep desire for my life to mean something, to have a higher purpose.

I realise now that by making myself the centre of everything, I was missing out on the freedom and fullness of life that comes from knowing that God is actually at the centre of everything. He is on a mission to redeem the world, and he invites me to play my part, but I am absolutely not the hinge the whole thing turns on (thank goodness!). I am at liberty to be the best me I can be, without strapping a whole load of unnecessary burdens to my back. Sometimes I still need reminding that it's not up to me to save the world - but more and more I am allowing God to play his part and to show me mine.

Two. Everyone has something to give. 
This goes hand in hand with number one. While I've been learning that lesson, I've been working, serving and doing life alongside many different people. It's amazing to see how differently other people think, how they can do things that I could never manage in a million years, how they care so passionately about things that I honestly don't give a stuff about. I've learned that we are all necessary. Whoever you are, whatever your gifts, skills and personality, there are roles that only you can play and people who only you can influence. 

So why not look out for those opportunities to give, especially to get alongside people? Maybe it’s someone who reminds you of yourself however many years ago. Maybe it’s someone you see has a similar passion or gift. By acknowledging the value in who God has made you to be, who else can you help along life's journey?

Three. I'm seriously crap at keeping in touch with people.
Many of you reading will know the above to be an understatement. I wish I knew what my problem is. It's not that I don't care about you if you're far away. Quite the opposite is true; many of the people I love most dearly are those I don't see on a regular basis. The fact that I'm so cruddy at showing them that love is a constant source of guilt to me. (Case in point, last week when I went to visit my family, I had to take with me the gift I bought my Mum for Mothers Day in March and birthday presents for my brother-in-law and sister, from May and June respectively. I join with you in judging me ever so severely).

Completely undeservedly I'm blessed with many wonderful people in my life who accept me warts and all, and are happy to pick things up where we left off when I see them, even if there's been little contact in the meantime. If you are one of those people, I am so thankful for you! If I have offended you with with my lack of in-touch-ness, I am honestly sorry. And if anyone knows how the heck I can improve in this area, I'm all ears. Maybe this will be the decade when I crack it...

Four. Your story is powerful.

I have been consistently blessed by those in my life who have shared their stories openly and freely. People like the leaders in my church who choose to share their weakness as well as their strength. And I have learnt that as I look to bless others, some of the most difficult things God has brought me through are the things he wants me to share for their benefit. 

So when I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression this year, just after I'd started this blog, I made the decision to be honest here about what’s going on in my life. And that’s all I’ve done. I haven’t tried to be wise, or to dress anything up to make it sound better than it is. I haven’t worried about how it makes me look, or how it makes God look. And I have had an astonishing response.

Dozens of people have contacted me to thank me, to tell me how encouraged they are by my story, and to share their own stories with me. It’s been overwhelming. In a very dark time, God has used me, and all I had to do was be willing to share. 

So don’t discount your story. It is a gift God has given you, and it is powerful. Allow God to use your story, look for people you can share your experiences with. And those experiences don’t have to be dramatic. You will be surprised by how many people can relate to your life, and both you and they will be blessed in the process.

Five. Everything that's worth something costs something.
The best example I can think of to illustrate this is cooking. Cooking is the pain you have to suffer before you can enjoy the glorious pleasure of eating. (If I could have a magical power, to be able to click my fingers and assemble ingredients into something wonderful would be high on the list. Alas, I never got my Hogwarts letter.) It's true though, the cost thing. For bigger and littler things than cooking.

Six. It doesn't matter what people think (and they probably aren't thinking what you think they're thinking anyway).
I don't know about you, but most of my head-space is not dedicated to observing the minutiae of other peoples' lives and then passing judgement on them. But, particularly during my early twenties, quite a lot of my head-space was taken up with observing the minutiae of my own life, imagining everyone else was doing the same and wondering what they thought of me because of it.

But no more! (At least, in theory). I am not going to let other people's reactions to me (real or imagined) dictate my life. Because, really, it doesn't matter what they think. However hard I try, I'm going to mess up, and let people down. And in spite of myself, there will be times when I do something great and please other people. There will be people who take to me for no particular reason and people who can't stand me for just as little reason. That's life. You can't control what other people think, only your response. The only person whose opinion of me matters knows me inside out and loves me ridiculously more than I can imagine. So that's OK then.

Seven. If you don't drink caffeine, carry decaf teabags with you at all times.
There is no simpler way to make British people feel instantly uncomfortable in their own homes than to refuse their offer of tea or coffee. Try it. You'll see panic-stricken thoughts racing through their mind - 'What does this mean?', 'Is she rejecting me?', 'Can I still have a cup?'.

I've tried many things over the years. Asking if they have anything decaf can make your host feel as though they've failed some test they didn't know to prepare for. Asking for a cold drink is met with suspicion and cries of "Are you sure? Are you sure you don't want something hot? It's no trouble!" But a simple "Yes please, I've got a decaf teabag in here somewhere", whilst rummaging through a handbag is deemed perfectly acceptable and ensures the visit will not be derailed.

If you, as in the case of my poor husband, simply dislike hot drinks, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you. You are doomed to a half-life of awkwardly sitting around kitchen tables clutching a glass of weak orange squash as you are eyed warily and somehow missed out when the biscuits are passed round.

Eight: We are all meant to take turns carrying and being carried.

From a young child, I always saw myself as “the strong one”. I've mentioned before that I was 9, my Dad died suddenly, and as the oldest sibling, I felt that I had to be there for my Mum and my two younger sisters to rely on. My emotions, worries and fears were to be dealt with on my own without troubling anyone else.

In Galatians 6:2 the Bible tells us to “Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfil the law of Christ.” Now we must be wise about whom we ask to share our burdens, but we're not supposed to do life alone, we are to be a community who love and support each other.

I got through my early 20s carrying other people’s burdens along with my own. And then one day, shortly after I’d collapsed under all that weight, I was meeting with a lady from my church and she explained something to me that has totally changed my mindset.

She asked me what it was like to be able to walk with someone else, through their troubles. I can tell you, to do that is one of the biggest privileges I know. To journey alongside someone, to see them grow in God as he brings them through trials is an immense blessing. So that’s what I told her. And then she dropped an absolute pearl of wisdom on me: if I refuse to share my burden, I am depriving others of the opportunity to be used by God and share in that same blessing that I enjoy.

It is for all of us to take turns carrying and being carried. There is no shame in allowing others to come alongside you, and there are no special qualifications needed to be the one doing the coming alongside.There are times when we all need practical support, an ear to listen, someone to pray with us, someone to take us out for a treat, someone to speak biblical wisdom and truth over us.

Right now, maybe it’s your turn to be carried. Accept that. It won’t be forever. Reach out for that support.

Right now it may be your turn to carry. Be generous with the support you can give. Allow God to use you in a most special way.

Either way, I promise you won’t regret it.

Nine: You are creative.
Some years ago, I was properly told off by an incredible man named Rob Lacey (he wrote the Word on the Street and set up Lacey Theatre Company) He told me off for saying that I wasn't creative. He told me that what I meant was that I am not arty (which is true) but that every single one of us is created by a creator to create and I was no exception. He was right. And you are no exception either. So go, find out what that means for you, and create!

Ten: I am not in control.
There have been things that have happened in my life and the lives of those around me over the last ten years that I would give almost anything to change. And probably what I find hardest about those experiences is that they remind me I am not in charge. I often go through life with the illusion that I can somehow control the world around me. But I can't. This world a messed up, beautiful place that all sorts of wonderful and terrible things happen in, for very complicated reasons and for no reason at all.

This tenth lesson echoes back to my first. I am not the answer, nor am I in control. But I honestly believe there is One who sees the bigger picture, and that he is the answer, and that in all things, he is working for the good of those who love him (that's Romans 8:28 by the way). I sometimes wish I could see the bigger picture and have more of a say in the colours he's using on my particular patch. But that's not going to happen any time soon. So I have to surrender that need for control to the only one who can be trusted not to abuse it. Thank Heaven for him.


So here's to a new decade. Well done if you plowed all the way through to this point, and I don't blame you at all if you skipped straight here from the beginning! Watch this space for (more than likely irregular) updates from this newly-thirty-something...

There's a new day dawning

Whenever I think about the way I came to follow Jesus, I always think about a sunrise. How at one point it's definitely nighttime, and then it's definitely daytime, but you can't put your finger on precisely when that change occurred (seriously, I dare you to try - it's impossible). That's kind of my story.

When I was 9, my Dad died very suddenly of a heart attack. That's a lot for a 9-year-old to deal with. That summer I went to the annual holiday club run by some local churches. I was full of hurt and questions. I remember vividly someone talking about life after death - about how Jesus, God's son, had come and beaten death, and if we were best friends with him and were sorry for all the bad things we had done, then after we died, we would also come back to life and live forever with him.


I remember thinking about that. It made sense to me that my Dad hadn't just stopped, just ceased to exist, I hated that thought. From what I knew about Jesus, it was a happy thing to imagine my Dad hanging out with him forever. So when they gave us the opportunity that morning, I asked Jesus to become my best friend. 

Then I carried on living. I went to high school. I wasn't the worst teenager in the world but I made some bad choices that resulted in some hurt to me and those around me. I went to church, I sang in the band, I prayed (when I wanted something). I loved the idea of God being in heaven loving me, of having somewhere "nice" to go after I died. And that was about the extent of my faith.


Then I came to uni in Cardiff, and I made some wonderful friends. They were lush (to coin a phrase) and they were also...different. They spoke about Jesus as if they actually knew him. He seemed to make an impact on every part of their lives. Whatever they had, that was what I wanted. As I hung out with them, their lives encouraged me to seek God for myself; I asked him to make himself real to me.


And one day I looked at my life, and realised I had found what I was looking for! I had a living relationship with Jesus, I knew him and I wanted to make choices that honoured him in every way. The sun that started to rise on that day when I was 9, had climbed the sky and suddenly it was a gorgeous sunny morning!


And that's great, but why am I writing about it now?


If you've been keeping up with this blog, you'll know that recently I've been going through a dark time. Last week, I made it to an evening that happens once a month at our church. It's called Refresh and it's - well - refreshing! A group of people come together to worship God, spend time with him and pray for one another. I used to be a regular, but haven't felt up to it for the last few months.


On this evening there came a point where people were sharing stuff they thought God might want to say to encourage the people there (if you're not used to that sort of thing, I'd recommend giving it a try, amazing-ness tends to happen!) When one of the leaders, mentioned a sunrise, my heart beat faster and butterflies filled my stomach - I knew God was speaking to me.


Some lovely ladies came to pray for me, and the sense I was left with was that there's a new day dawning. That right now I may be in the dark of night, but that something else is beginning and I'm going to be able to watch a glorious sunrise in my life.


I have to a large extent lost all confidence and belief in myself and my abilities. I'm questioning what I am capable of and whether I will be able to do the things again that I used to do before. But I still have faith and confidence in my God. I still know his goodness. I know he has been with me in the darkness, and I believe that he is going to cause my sun to rise again.


I'll keep you posted on its progress!