changing seasons, yet God stays the same

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There is a season (a time appointed) for everything and a time for every delight and event or purpose under heaven… (Eccl 3:1 AMP)

And so the seasons have most definitely changed, no longer summer afternoon teas but now collecting colourful falling leaves, wrapping up in soft scarves and hats, jam making and open fires! Each season has its own delights, yet some things stay the same – I remembered this particular robin sharing our cream tea as A pointed out our garden robin had come to join in the hedge trimming just the other day. Totally different season, yet that robin reminded me of the constants we have in life in the midst of the relentless transitions.

Autumn brings birthdays to our family, and this year we have our first 18th – quite a milestone. A huge load of transitions heading our way over the next season in B’s life. There is a lot of pressure to make decisions about the next season in life – what university, what course, for what career?? Or should it be apprenticeship, and if so what and where?? Our very nearly 16 yr old also faces big choices, A-levels? If so which? If not, then what?? The pressure to somehow anticipate what’s going to be best in the next season of life is really tough I think. For most of us, looking back reveals just how nuanced and twisty-turny each season actually turns out to be in reality. Yet the decisions are presented as if everything hangs on them, as if this is the only time to have these opportunities. The fact that it seems as though everyone else is managing, and following the ‘system’ doesn’t relieve the pressure either. It feels impossible to step out for a bit, to pause and simply breathe. But for many I suspect, some in our family included, that’s exactly what’s needed to be able to face the next transition, the next season with intention and confidence. Not everyone’s going to fit into the standard timeline.

Andrew & I don’t want to be yet another source of pressure either through unspoken expectations, real or perceived, or by our unintended bias towards one path through life. But that’s not easy is it. We all come with an idea of what that path might (or even should) look like – whether we assume university or expect our kids to go out & get a ‘decent job’. It’s got to be a deliberate decision to pause alongside and see other possibilities, other ways of doing things and to value what each can bring, and to stay alongside as those incredibly difficult decisions are tentatively reached at the right time – not necessarily the time everyone else tells us.

I also hope that as parents we can point to the constants as so many things begin to change. We can offer our very best, praying and promising to be there no matter what. To always be home for our kids. But we have something, someone, even better to offer who we know will be able to fulfill his promise to be there and to always be home for our kids. Our Father God, through the presence of the Holy Spirit because of Jesus will be constant no matter what, no matter which path, no matter how many transitions, no matter which season of life. I pray that we can live in this reality ourselves in such a way that our kids are without doubt where we find our grounding and security in all the changes of life, and that they too in their own relationship with God will be being grounded deep and strong into that secure presence in their lives.

I’m never out of your sight. You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence. I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too— your reassuring presence, coming and going. This is too much, too wonderful— I can’t take it all in! (Psalm 139:5 MSG)

 

 

Tired

When people ask ‘how are you?’ what do you reply?

‘Fine’

‘Good’

‘yep, how are you?’

One of my go-to replies is ‘head above water!’ But in the midst of the relentless, coming-at-me, complicated, tiring, purposeful, joyful, infuriating, beautiful life of ours there are times when I add in my head – ‘just’. You know that kind of tired when you’ve been treading water for so long the weary ache sets in, or you’ve been carrying something just slightly too heavy or awkward and suddenly you just have to put it down for a minute, when you’re running to catch up with someone and you’re nearly there – but not quite. That tired.

That tired that opens the door to the insecurities – ‘I can’t do this’, ‘I’m not good enough’, ‘what’s the point in trying’, ‘it won’t work’, ‘I’m failing’, ‘I always fail’, ‘I’m a failure, rubbish, why bother’, ‘nobody, invisible…’ – and a tiny voice in the midst of the clamor ‘ ‘help!’. Elijah tired.

When Elijah saw how things were, he ran for dear life to Beersheba, far in the south of Judah. He left his young servant there and then went on into the desert another day’s journey. He came to a lone broom bush and collapsed in its shade, wanting in the worst way to be done with it all—to just die: “Enough of this, God! Take my life—I’m ready to join my ancestors in the grave!” Exhausted, he fell asleep under the lone broom bush.

Suddenly an angel shook him awake and said, “Get up and eat!”

He looked around and, to his surprise, right by his head were a loaf of bread baked on some coals and a jug of water. He ate the meal and went back to sleep.

The angel of God came back, shook him awake again, and said, “Get up and eat some more—you’ve got a long journey ahead of you.”

8-9 He got up, ate and drank his fill, and set out. Nourished by that meal, he walked forty days and nights, all the way to the mountain of God, to Horeb. When he got there, he crawled into a cave and went to sleep.

Then the word of God came to him: “So Elijah, what are you doing here?” (1 Kings 19:3-9 MSG)

I come back to this passage over and over again. So human. So real. And God, our Father so gentle and purposeful. ‘There’s still a journey to make, eat, sleep, come on keep following – I’m here with you – one thing at a time Elijah’. We are seen, known by name, loved and sent with purpose & company. Time to catch a breath, eat & sleep the best I can and keep on stepping out with God.

lam 3 23

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easter holidays

 

When the school break happens leading up to Easter it’s a little tricky in our house!

A lot of patience was required from B, A & T as Andrew & I worked and prepared different services and events. A lot of patience was required by Andrew & I as the kids needed help relaxing, finding things to occupy themselves with and completing work.

In the end we began the holiday fortnight digging out a new pond in the back garden, with A designing and directing, me digging when I could and finishing other things when I could, and T with a trowel & paint brush checking for archaeological finds! Andrew mostly in the study or out for work, and B also working.

We found some fairly recent broken house tiles and the remains of a garden brick wall we think – and perhaps some pieces of a not-so-old plant pot! We also finished a pond.

As you can imagine it was a lesson in ‘I am simply not good enough, I can’t do all this without help!’ My patience has limits, each day has limited usable time, and lets face it washing clothes (and people!), cleaning, tidying, food (though Andrew handles that thankfully) and time together all still have to happen – sleep is apparently still fairly optional in our house but that’s another blog! Where does my help come from??!

I look to the hills!
Where will I find help?
It will come from the Lord,
who created the heavens
and the earth.

The Lord is your protector,
and he won’t go to sleep
or let you stumble.
The protector of Israel
doesn’t doze
or ever get drowsy.

The Lord is your protector,
there at your right side.

Psalm 121 (CEV)

There’s a limit to how far you can dig deep into your own resources, or at least that seems true in my experience. I’m finite. I’m not brilliant at everything. I’m tired – genuinely, mentally, physically and emotionally tired. I’m not enough many days. My faith in a faithful God is where I go for resources that go beyond my own; like walking uphill on a hot day and finding a well overflowing with cold pure water.

There’s no limit to how far you can dig deep into God’s heart finding love bigger, greater, stronger than you can ever imagine; patience that can outlast eternity; peace – real peace; forever new beginning forgiveness; mercy; being known, heard, understood; home…

 

It was I suppose a good context for Easter celebrations in the end. I went into Good Friday knowing I desperately needed help and forgiveness, knowing I couldn’t make it on my own. And found as if for the first time, as always, surprising mercy and love flowing from the heart of our full of life God.

 

 

Snowdrop moments: unexpected breakthroughs

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Love, love, love snowdrops don’t you. Little nuggets of resilience and pioneering spirit. Humble simple beauty when it’s least expected and looked for, when everything is cold & hard, and just when it’s needed to lift the spirits and urge us forward. I carefully divided and replanted some clumps of bulbs last autumn, and am enjoying watching them fight their way into flower in their new homes around the garden. For me they are a reminder of the fact that God is in the business of making everything new – and that begins now, in the unexpected; against the odds; tenacious; fragile and simple yet miraculously powerful breakthroughs that God allows to spring up ready to be found and rejoiced in. They remind me to rejoice with God in the small significant ‘newnesses’ that happen in our family life.

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A sewing birthday party attended despite huge anxiety and thoroughly enjoyed. Huge sense of achievement. The photo shows fluffy the bear, designed and sewed by T alongside a great group of girls from her class.

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T had homework this week to cook a healthy tea for her family!

Andrew helped, I provided emotional support! And T cooked chicken pasta. Exhausting.

Hidden in this amazing event was an equally amazing moment as T sat with B & A and a friend at the kitchen table and all ate some – a new recipe tried by everyone – don’t try & tell me God doesn’t break into our everyday, that’s definitely miraculous.

 

This morning A allowed T to sit in his room, and they peacefully ate breakfast alongside each other. (I know!!!)

College work, a very new way of presenting and handing in, is being completed.

We have had a visit from a good friend, who helps us in ways she probably doesn’t realize. And, in the same few days another friend came round so that Andrew & I could go out for a meal. I know, sounds so ordinary yet never ever taken for granted.

img_20190122_102331_045I am pressing on with the editing of another book – the one that sparked all the others – about time I focused on it again and got it ready to share with you, think you’re going to love it.

Last week I also travelled (not far, but even so, out of my little comfort zone) to help deliver a disability (or diffability as I like to think of it) awareness training session for the diocese and had the chance to share a bit about ‘sense of space’, our accessible worship at church and our experience. And we juggled school pick ups successfully between us.

All of these small, significant, moments – snowdrop moments if you like – can be moments to recognize God is at work in our midst. He is drawing us forward, revealing his faithfulness, his humour, his joy in who he has created each of us to be; leading us into his life – his overflowing, never ending aliveness that he pours into our lives. Tough circumstances, worries, lack of sleep, diffability; none of it stops God in his busyness of recreating. His aliveness is powerful enough to break through the hardest, coldest places of our lives in ways unexpected; against the odds; tenacious; fragile yet powerful.

 

 

peace, not necessarily peacefulness

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Goodness it’s been quite a half term in the Porter house! A new school for T, college for the first time for B, and the beginning of the exam years for A. Plus new chaplaincy work for Andrew alongside church, and all the usual responsibilities. Of course, for me this has brought yet more steep learning curves and the challenges of stepping up to the new ways support from me is needed for everyone. Trying to understand and navigate the Further Ed support systems, beginning to build partnership and communication with new tutors and teachers. Reading and re-reading policies and guidelines, law and recommendations to try and work out what adjustments and support it is reasonable to ask for, what I need to find independently and what simply isn’t out there that I’m going to need to creatively put in place myself. One of my friends reminds me that I once said to her that chaos is chaos – no matter how much more you put into the mix, but my goodness it feels as if we have chaos full to bursting at the moment!

Yesterday the secondary school where I’m on the chaplaincy team had a service all about peace. At the end there was a time of reflection with beautiful music being played. In between the boys behind me asking me what different questions on the reflection sheet meant (which I loved chatting about) I sat and read, and re-read ‘my peace I give to you… do not be troubled, do not be upset’. And I sat there and heard Jesus say these words into all of the above and more, and I became aware of my aching painful permanently stressed out shoulders and neck, and I pondered this gift of peace. Given into the midst of the storms of life.

“I’m telling you these things while I’m still living with you. The Friend, the Holy Spirit whom the Father will send at my request, will make everything plain to you. He will remind you of all the things I have told you. I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught.” (John 14:27, MSG)

We rarely have ‘peaceful’ times in our family life together. And when we do it’s short lived. We work hard to find ‘peacefulness’ and rest for each of us – we each find it in different ways and places. A good book, quiet, dancing to loud music, gardening, walking, animals, being alone, being with others, baking, drawing and painting, playing, minecraft, SIMS… But it’s elusive and fleeting, the ‘peace’ we can find for ourselves in those ways. It’s needed respite but it doesn’t come close to the deep seated, welling up, strong, protecting all around me kind of peace that I sense Jesus is talking about.

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I think I began learning what this Jesus peace might be like when I was only a child. Words from a song we played on a record over and over, and sang along to have stayed with me through the years and pop into my mind to remind me of the truth I grabbed hold of as a child listening to ‘the music machine’: ‘peace is holding Jesus’ hand’. It is active, holding onto him, trusting in who he is. It is a gift, he stands next to me with his hand stretching out to be held onto, giving himself. He is our peace. We are accepted, loved, understood. We are safe and held through every storm of life. We are not defined and restricted by the systems we have to navigate but defined by and in this belonging with Jesus. Our well being and purposefulness rests in our belonging with him.

My belonging in him can give me the courage I need. I can lean into his love for me when worries yet again try to overwhelm me. When everything feels as if I am wading through treacle I can be sure I am with the one who can speak to howling wind and dangerous waves – and put them in their place! The troubles, worries, concerns, mountains we face do not disappear but we are not bereft or alone. We are ‘holding Jesus’ hand’.

 ‘I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.’ (John 16:33 NIV)

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