Merry Humbug or Bah Christmas?

Ever since Dickens’ A Christmas Carol was published there has been a name for all those who lack the seasonal goodwill – Scrooges. Characterised as grumpy, miserly, criers of ‘bah humbug’ who are anti-Christmas a Scrooge is poor company for most of the year but especially during such a happy jolly time.

But what about those who are humbug without being a Scrooge? Those for whom Christmas is a tough time because of a missing loved one – to death or feud or ....  Those who have to face the stresses of keeping the peace across an extended family whilst producing the perfect lunch. Or those of us with depressive moods.

‘So here it is Merry Christmas, everybody’s having fun’ so goes Slade’s famous song, but as many songs it is wishful thinking. There will be plenty of people not having fun – and not because we are Scrooges, but just because life gets in the way.

Even then it is not an either/or situation, as with the rest of the year we are a mix of conflicting emotions – hence my title of Merry Humbug or Bah Christmas, most of us will have a bit of both in us.

I have found this a hard Advent, not because anything is objectively more challenging or tough in my life but from the seasonal ebbs and flows of depression.  Shorter days and insufficient sunlight can bring on Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Even those without depressive tendencies recognise the drift towards lethargy, hibernation and low moods at this time of year – it is not for nothing that so many cultures and religions have their celebrations of light in the depth of winter, that is when we most need reminding of hope.

As I said, this year I have had no sense of ‘Christmas Spirit’ (whatever that actually is) and no interest in planning for it, presents, cards, carol singing – it all feels a chore to be faced, and bed seems permanently attractive.  However chores are there to be faced and for me that includes leading others in the church celebrations leading to Christmas.

Last Sunday was Carol services, and for one church the culmination of a project with the wider community. I was involved in 3 services of very different styles and approaches, but with one thing in common – my awareness of God’s presence.  God is never absent, but often things get in the way of us sensing his presence in that immediate way.  On Sunday, after so many days of growing depressive clouds, the air was cleared, the light shone in and it was moment of such assurance, love and positivity. My Christmas had arrived, the light had come in the darkness and it was wonderful.

A couple of days later and I have descended from that high, well and truly. I am still keener on hibernation than celebration in my SAD fogginess.  But....BUT...and super but...moments like Sunday are memories that hold the flame alight even in the dark times, and more powerful that the memories of good times these moments of light glimpsed in the dark are more poignant, more hope-filled, because even there, even here, ‘the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome it’. 

So I may be more humbug than merry this year, but Christmas is still Christmas.

Confidence Flashback

I am a driver. It is vital in this job in a rural area. I don’t drive for fun – apart from anything else who can afford that? But I am confident in my driving, and can do it without thinking much about the process (though I do try to think about the road ahead!)

At least that was the case until yesterday. I changed my car, my first car, after many years together. The replacement is a little bigger, a grown up car with back doors – much better for giving lifts to folk , and power steering which is new to me. 

It was delivered yesterday, 6 years old but looking pristine. I took it out cautiously, off the drive, round the corner of the close and onto the next corner –where I braked but the brake wasn’t there and the car rolled across to the garden wall opposite and scratched the car below the bumper.

The car is bigger, the pedals didn’t align with where my feet instinctively went, I’ve made my mark on the car – and have lost my confidence.  When I sit at the wheel the fears and doubts of learning to drive are back, without the reassuring presence of the instructor and dual controls. Now I know that I am not back there, I know that I have years of driving experience – but it doesn’t feel like that.

I feel like a little girl in a grown up world and not able to cope with the responsibility.  All because it is new to me, because I am not in my comfort zone, because it is not the safety blanket of the familiar.  Ok so the scary moment happened, no harm – apart from a scratch or two which can be dealt with, and I will get used to the lights and the wipers being the other way around and the feel of a bigger, different car.   In fact I went out after midnight when the roads were almost deserted for a 30 mile drive and feel a bit better, though still with the learner’s insecurity.

How vulnerable we are to confidence flashbacks. Or at least I am.

Even when things are going well the stress of a change can link back to the emotions of the last time, in this case the last time I had to get to know a new car as a driver.

Or staying with parents, how easily we slip back into the routines and identities of a past stage in the relationship.

Looking back at past places I can see and celebrate the huge emotional journey I have been on to find the self confidence and self esteem I have now. Are times like this, and the weeks to come as i work through this driving wobble, a step backwards? A sliding down a deep dangerous slope? It felt like that, but I am asserting to myself that it is just the twinges of an old war wound, a reminder of those times but not a return. And I guess many of us will have these twinges from time to time, and though painful may just be normal.

Meanwhile if you see me coming and the wipers go, that means I’m turning!

Mind your attitude!!

I woke up this morning to the Today programme  (about 1hr 13min) discussing the latest Social Attitudes Survey  and it has been on my mind all day.

The key points discussed were that people are concerned about the inequalities and yet are increasingly tough on others. Self interest is prevailing,  eg we need housing but not near me, and especially so if I personally don't need it. And sympathy for those in need seems at a low ebb - people would cut benefits and reduce the taxes. Child poverty is blamed on the parents, unemployment is seen as a choice.

Are we becoming more selfish? In this time of recession and tightened belts it is natural that people's thoughts are inward - dealing with our own difficulties or the instability of worries takes up time and energy therefore we may have less sympathy left over to spare for others.

But to actually harden attitudes to those in need is worrying for our society, we need each other, interdependent.  And if we are supposed to be developing Big Society thinking whilst at the same time society attitudes are narrowing more than ever before - then the loss of the wider picture is going to be a major problem.

I do wonder if there is another dimension going on. Is the need to blame people for their own misfortune a pyschological safety net? In an insecure climate acknowledging that sudden change, such as redundancy followed by home repossession, could happen to anyone is a scary thing to live with. If you can put a reason on why it happens, and that reason is someone else's lack of effort and commitment, then you can reassure yourself that with all your effort it won't happen to you.

A similar dynamic may happen with depression and mental distress - the desire, or need perhaps, to separate out from the person affected, to find a reason why it is them and not you. 

On the radio discussion it was noted that as people have those close to them affected by unemployment, and trying to live on benefits then attitudes may well shift again, and as people deal with mental health issues in those close to them, they come to understand more - if never perfectly!

In the meantime, and as many struggle, lets all try to mind our attitudes, and when it comes to those who are different, mind the gap!

Getting active locally

In the last 2 weeks I have been at 2 events about local communities. One was a churchy discussion that included an attempt to explain the legislation about Big Society and the Localism Act – brain aching stuff, an attempt by government to involve the local communities in decision processes but I couldn’t see how the practicalities will add up.

Last Friday I was at a Village SOS day event in the area. Yes them of the TV shows about dramatic projects in a few communities, it was a posh conference centre do – free to delegates. As far as I gather Village SOS is a project funded by the Big Lottery Fund to promote social enterprise in communities.

It was a good day in many ways, we heard about the development of a community run shop in a church building, had workshops about practical matters and the chance to connect with other people. Frankly they were talking about projects that left me feeling way out of my depth – community businesses, for the benefit of the community but still needing a profit to exist, and a heap of legal info.

There were 4-5 of us there explicitly representing parts of the church and the place of churches as venues in communities was mentioned from the front and not only in the case of the shop in the church. However I felt that the church was part of the conversation about community resources as a building not as a congregation - as a group of active people. Yet scratch the surface and churchgoing people are active in all sorts of community initiatives.

The church as a community of faith has a part to play in the future of rural communities, but is that acknowledged formally, or is it happening more subtly individually – and does the difference matter? On one hand not, but equally the church as a group of people has a role, if we can find our voice. But it needs to be the voice of the local congregation – with increasing numbers of communities to work with the clergy can’t invest the leadership time in vast ventures, but what we can do is encourage and support those who live in the village to find their place.

Mind you I am conflicted about the demands of community action – will it add to the multi tier hierarchy of village life, where those who do have power in so many areas and those who don’t get active are seen as hangers on regardless of  personal circumstances? Will localism be democratic or feudal? Either way people of faith are in the midst of these places living out their values and beliefs in many different ways and on various sides of any debate.

Who am I? What Am I?

I haven't posted for what seems like ages and ages, it has been one of those manic times when if I do get to draw breath then I'm sorry blogging is way down the priority list after sleeping, eating and yes a glass or few of wine.

But this busyness has highlighted some of the weirdness of being a minister. I have had a huge range of roles since I last wrote - from solar panel arranger, through community librarian to taking RE classes in school and helping at youth club....and somewhere along the line sunday services, a funeral and other minister type stuff.

I have joked with people about this constant shift of identity between different jobs - most of which the training to be a minister doesn't cover - and pointed out that at least life is never boring when each day is so different.  However stability is an important thing in life too, and predictability and routine help structure our lives. Emotionally and in terms of mental energy it is good not to have to make all the day's decisions anew every day.  Just pause and consider all the potential choices from the time you wake up until you go to sleep - if you didn't have habits from your usual breakfast cereal onwards it would be exhausting. Whilst lack of variation would be mind-numbingly boring, constant change is not the answer - like most things in life it is all a matter of balance.

Of course I am in a crowded corner living with this constant mix of identities - any parent knows this too, or if you are balancing your life and caring for an older relative, or someone else.  So many people juggle complex expectations that are emotionally, physically and mentally exhausting, and the effort involved in the gear shifts between roles can take an enormous toll on people's wellbeing.

What is the answer? It would be nice to simplify life, but reality means that is not going to happen. So the question is how do we protect ourselves from the strains of a complex life?  I don't have an answer for you, you will have to find your own, for me it involves a pyjama day with out guilt, or space to be creative.  Each person has their own recharge buttons - but if we don't force ourselves to build them into our crazy lives somewhere then we are likely to go pop sooner rather than later.

Having lived through a breakdown I do not want to face another experience that dark - and if you can be motivated to care for yourself without that direct experience then do it. But even with it I find I have manic times where piles of 'things that have to be done right now' all crash into the same week or month. Is it out of my control? or do I simply allow them to have control? Either way - 'Hello Pot, I'm Kettle'!!

I started with the title 'Who am I? What am I?' - when we can no longer answer these about ourselves, rather than just in relation to other people or roles, then it is a sign we need to find respite, and to find ourselves again.

People Watching

I haven’t been on a bus for a very long time – the journeys I need to make in this rural area not having that as an option. However I do remember the way buses fill up, each person going to an empty seat unless already with someone they know. No-one attempts to sit up cosy with a stranger until it becomes necessary, and even then in the brief seconds of looking down the aisle people are consciously or not sussing out the least threatening space. The seat next to the smart commuter being preferable to the scruffy teen or the old lady with arms full of bags and liable to chat to you whether you want to or not! On the other side the early boarders will have their own space protection plans – from the bags on the chair (forcing someone to dare to speak to you before they can claim a seat) to staring out of the window in denial of what is happening inside the bus.

In churches there is that same tendency – unless already planning to sit by someone  a new arrival will head for an empty space where they don’t have to go too close to others.  This is very normal behaviour – at least for us Brits – we have a pretty large invisible ‘my space’ around us. So many churches with smaller congregations than they were built for have this scattered look when you stand and view from the front.  Even when trying to get people to gather round in a circle or the like there will be those who resist the preacher’s requests. 

Yet this morning it was different. 

The church was laid out with 4 tables surrounded by a circle of chairs, 2 either side of the aisle. This wasn’t cafe church as such but creating usable size groups for a traditional Methodist Love Feast (another Moravian idea Wesley liked and nicked). This is a space for people to share tea and cake whilst sharing stories of encouragement of God in their lives. This was the first go at this and I had no idea how it would go, given people are not being used to speaking out at church unless you are the one at the front! 

It went down well but it was the people watching as they arrived that surprised me. People were choosing to fill up the gaps around a table rather than be the first at a new table. Some who usually sit in glorious separation were cwtched up close to each other. This has intrigued me. 

Is there is something about the table that changes the dynamic?

The expectation is that of being a group, and so it is important to be included. It is a community moment, and the layout says that. But surely all corporate worship is meant to be a community event – it is why we turn up at church at the same time, isn’t it? 

Actually it is much more complicated, some arrive at church on Sunday and long for that community, others come and want to be individual and it just happens that they are in a room with others being individual too. Some of those people will have stayed away today following the information given out in advance. Those who crave community in worship loved today. 

But how to serve congregations that are so varied in how they connect to God in worship?

A lifetime of rejection... for being ill

Today was one of those full of surprises, and one of the surprises was a conversation with someone I already knew but hadn't spoken to for a long time.

It was in theory about something else but she felt the need to begin by stating that she wasn't mad, unstable, bipolar etc.  We then proceeded to share stories, she spoke of being ill and in hospital - but only 'for assessment' - and I admitted my own breakdown and use of antidepressants.

Last Monday was World Mental Health day - one of the aims of which is to encourage conversation and overcome stigma.  Today's conversation highlights for me how fortunate I have been in my own experience, I have not suffered unduly from the level of stigma. Partly that is a shift in attitudes, but also partly that I am now functioning well with the support of meds and have never been an inpatient.

Had I had my breakdown 50 years ago, as this person did, then things would probably have been very different. And it may be that I wouldn't have been able to take up a job in ministry. Today's conversation is only one I have had about the experiences of people over many years with mental health services and the stigma of being ill with your 'nerves'.

Treatment was very different then, medication much more addictive than current drugs, electroconvulsive therapy was widely used, and insulin comas. And that was before facing the conspiracy of silence and dismissal by the community.

Today's conversation let me into a lifetime of being pushed aside because of mental health issues, and the defensive reaction is understandable. It felt very powerful to be able to refer to my own depression and breakdown - not to claim to understand her experience, but to show that I don't see it as something to be embarrassed about, and not something I will judge others for.

I can be be strong because times have shifted, but if I can offer a belated sense of acceptance to those who have only known rejection, even if only in a tiny way, then that is a huge privilege.

Poisoned!!

I am laid out in bed as I write this, feeling weak and washed out after a dramatic bout of food poisoning that ended up in A&E some 40 mins away. When the drugs kicked in and the pain eased I was left contemplating the foolishness of eating the dodgy leftovers with which I had poisoned myself,  put myself through agony and called on medical resources.

I have joked that at least it wasn’t the Sunday before when I was hosting the Chair of District for lunch, but reality is that I wouldn’t have chanced suspicious food on anyone else, be they a big boss or not. Yet home alone I take the risks myself, I don’t care to the same level as I would for others.  This also applies to being bothered to cook properly or eat at the right times, no-one else is affected by my eating routines so no outside forces to keep me in order – just my own commitment to myself, or not.

Self –esteem can be expressed in many ways, but deeply imbedded is the level of care  we show ourselves. We are affected by society pressure to put others first, feed the family before yourself, give your time and energy to those around you – it is not just us home alones who fail to look after ourselves. And that’s before any effect of depression which when fully active sucks out interest in self care.

So was my trip in the ambulance because I was just careless on a busy weekend, because it is too easy to cut corners for myself, or because deep down I don’t care enough for myself to make the effort?

And then there is the question of being ill home alone – at what stage do you call in help whether professional or friends to give an outside view of whether it is serious or to mop your brow? I left it quite late, don’t make a fuss etc. But it is probably more common to make a molehill of a mountain than a mountain out of a molehill.

But that is enough of my musings from last night’s drug induced contemplation alone in A&E.

I’ll just end by noting this is World Mental Health day – and good mental health includes caring for yourself body, mind and spirit.

When Depression and Hope collide

Today I led a review day for 3 of my churches, we had a similar conversation with my other churches a couple of weeks ago. We are a year into a new structure and still trying it on for size, just as it takes time to break in new shoes that fill awkward and stiff after the old comfortable ones that have been shed, so we have a lot to learn and change not least me as the minister who is supposed to guide them through this. We also have issues of declining, aging congregations increasing bills and decreasing resources. All of which adds up to an uncomfortable conversation.

There are signs of hope and life, but they are small and need nurturing, and hard for people to see. And when they do see them it seems they see the work not the hope. It is strange that I, on antidepressants and knowing the struggle to find the positive in my own life, am the one who sees the possibilities and signs of hope in the church – or rather in the church living out its faith in the community.

I feel like the keen gardener nursing seeds and tiny shoots when others see only a pile of effort with no expectations that even if a hint of green is seen that it will survive let alone thrive, and there is just so much housework to do that all that time in the greenhouse just seems beyond them, and quite frankly natural growth can take a lot of work!

As the non gardener myself when not in metaphor I can see their point of view – acutely. And I see their tired eyes devoid of hope if not of longing. But sometimes longing for preservation of the familiar, not being able to glimpse anything that is different – and the seeds that grow today are very different to the plants that released them for the soil and conditions are so different.

And so here I am, the one part of my life that I live with hope and enthusiasm – boxed in by other people showing the depressive symptoms that I know so well in my personal life. I have an empathy from my own life but still want to bash heads together and say ‘don’t you get it?’ even though I know that doesn’t help. So understanding and yet still frustrated, and wondering if I have the inner strength to continue to proclaim hope to the hopeless, and freedom for the oppressed.

I will survive, but for tonight I will lick my wounds and have a glass of red wine.

Celebrating the changes...

Over the last few weeks I have been helping at the local village youth club - taking over from an Anglican colleague who has moved on to pastures new.

Let me state that again so you realise the significance -
I - me who was bullied and terrified of teens for years - am helping to run - by choice! - the local youth club - not the ordered school classes but ad hoc 'hanging out' teens - and learning to enjoy it

It was the bullying that set me on the road to depression and to be a suicidal teenager who avoided other teens then and for years after that. At the end of last term I faced a school year of 14/15 yr olds which was a huge hurdle and terrifying - and they had their teachers to keep them in order!

So coming home one day in August to a phone call asking if I would get involved in the youth club was a step further. I agreed to go on the committee, and of course needed to go along to know what we were dealing with - but I wasn't signing up to all Friday nights, no way, not for me.  Yet 3 sessions later and I am committed, the other leaders are weary and need fresh blood, the teens have potential, and through the advice of an expert friend who visited us last week I have ideas and am encouraged that even I could do something meaningful. 

I find my own way of relating - I took some craft along and chatted over the doing, it is not me to just 'hang with the gang' but over a bit of woodburning I get over the gap and fear and it is just sharing an interest together then without trying general chat happens.

This job brings me face to face with challenges that my instinct is to hide from and I find that either I am able to survive it, or do okay, or sometime to actually learn to enjoy what I previously feared. Only with an assurance of God with me do I dare to confront things, and sometimes survival is the highest goal available.

But I want to say that the cords that bind us can be broken, they do not need to define our whole life, even if they have shaped our past.

Does that mean I live a life of total victory and joy - no. Life is too complex for that, but I can celebrate the gains, rejoice in the upward shifts and pat my own back even as I thank God.

Re-writing the parables

I didn't preach a sermon today - instead I offered an alternative version of the reading from Matthew 20 v 1-16.  My version reflects the experience of churches where generations have been missing and new recruits can't be found where they used to be. Culture has shifted and those looking for answers to the spiritual questions of life don't look to the church, so we have to meet them where they are. But I am positive about the future - if we can face the changes.

The parable of the workers in the vineyard reimagined –

For the kingdom of church is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire workers for his vineyard. He agreed with them a wage for the day and sent them into his vineyard.

About nine in the morning he went out and saw others standing in the marketplace doing nothing.  He told them, ‘You also go and work in my vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’  So they went.

He went out again about noon and did the same thing. The workers in the vineyard welcomed the arrivals and shared the work together, those who had worked since dawn could ease and rest in the heat of the sun whilst guiding the newcomers.

 About three in the afternoon the landowner went out again to the market place, but found no waiting for him. All around were people busy in their lives, whether rushing along or loitering they didn’t lift their eyes to see him.

He returned to the vineyard alone, the workers wearied by the sun sigh and work on, weaker and slower.

About five in the afternoon he went out again to the market place, this time he sat in the cafe, he chatted in the post office. He returned to the vineyard, others with him.

The new people were enthusiastically welcomed, but they didn’t work in the same way as the others.

At the end of the day they were gathered together and those that had worked longer commented to the landowner that things were not being done as they were taught and had tried to teach.

The landowner gently smiled, ‘The vineyard is a place of change, from the pruned barren looking vines to times of greenery and times of grapes. Each season comes with losses, gains and most of all change, those who work the longest shift see the most change.’

The last will be first and the first will be last, seasons of dryness and seasons of fruit

Me, myself and I

Last week was particularly hectic both physically and emotionally so reaching the pause button today It has all ganged up on me. I still have the poster I used to have up at my desk in the office job several versions of me ago 'I try to take one day at a tine but several have attacked me at once'.  Pretty well sums up today most of which was spent in bed with tired body and tired brain.  Mostly that is my chronic fatigue reminding me that I need rest, but it does things emotionally too - as does a few glasses of wine after a stressful week. On one hand it relaxes me to sleep but also have a depressive effect of its own.

Today my limbs have been leaden and brain cotton wool. It was due to be a study day so only one thing on the agenda and I knew they could cope without me - didn't fancy my reactions speed on the road. But as night draws in I feel the loneliness. Part of that is reality - being home alone when feeling poorly sucks, and this job can feel lonely too; but part of it is the depression whispering. But what ever the cause it is real for the time it lasts, and if that time is when friends are busy at work it isn't great.

But I hold onto what I always hold onto - 'This too shall pass' maybe by morning, maybe not for a week, or even longer, but it will pass.  I regularly drive across a high common with views into the valley where I live. Sometimes on that upper road you can see the mist and fog settled in the valley, down there I can't see my hand in front of my face, up here I see that the sun still shines.  So I remember that in the valley - out there beyond this temporary fog the sun still shines.

And now I lay myself to sleep
I pray O Lord my soul to keep
Whatever I face when I awake
Guide me through for your name's sake

Days that change the world...

That was the focus of my sermon yesterday on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 alongside lectionary readings of the crossing of the red sea, and the Gospel passage on forgiveness. Before discussing the nature of forgiveness not being a denial of anger or of justice, and maybe needing a lifetime to work on I thought about the days that change our world.

There are moments that are such hinges that our lives divide into before and after, when things will never be the same again. Sometimes that happens on a world scale such as 9/11, when whatever we may think of the political decisions that followed we cannot deny that great shift from before to after. But more often it happens within our local world, our personal world - when it is turned upside down.  I quoted from the Radio 4 Book of the Week slot which had different authors responding to 9/11, Thursday's was entitled Prepositions and opened with 'Your husband died in 9/11; my husband died on 9/11'. It highlighted that lives changed that day for other reasons too, as they do every day.

Prepositions

On the evening of 11 Sept 2011 I came home to facebook news of the death of Rev Dr Angela Shier-Jones. She was a significant voice in Methodist theology, a deep thinker, and always a friendly face. But for me she was one of our local preachers in my home circuit when I was growing up, and I remember her going to Bristol to train as a minister. Searching the web this morning for more information to pass back to my family about the news I found the blog she began when diagnosed with incurable cancer a year ago.  In its heading she wrote -

Suffering Grace

Discovering that I have incurable cancer shattered my world. It showed me that at the most pivotal moments in our lives the Church fails us by being afraid to speak of God’s grace in pain and suffering and death. I am not. This is an unashamed, unafraid narrative of the work of God's grace in my life. It is not an apology for my suffering, or a religious excuse for my pain and death, it is my story of the joyous redemption of all that is needed to be fully human.

http://sufferinggrace.blogspot.com/

____________________________________________________

This spoke so much to my own desire that we are able to be honest in church life about the painful stuff, the angry stuff, the 'why me' and the 'why them'. When we can be honest about the pain then we can begin to look in it and through it to glimpse God's grace.

My school English teacher used to criticise us for using the word 'nice' - it wasn't a proper word she said, it doesn't have a true meaning, it is an excuse for not deciding what to say. And 'niceness' invades so much of our church life, a mixture of British politeness and a worry perhaps that honesty with all its rawness might somehow offend God, or if not certainly scare our neighbour in the pew.

So in memory of all whose lives are turned upside down (don't think that leaves anyone out!) lets stop being nice and start being real.

Rest well in his arms Angela.

Tainted money?

There are occasions when a gift is offered to the church from a controversial source - today I had one of those calls.  It has triggered a lot of thoughts - beyond the details of this case.

What is 'tainted money' - is there such a thing? Perhaps the proceeds of crime, but what about extending that to the proceeds of sweat shop labour, or the arms trade, or a banker's bonus.

From my reflections through the day I have drawn a distinction between money generated through actions we consider dubious and money given by dubious sources but acquired through undisputed means. 

Accepting a gift from the first could be seen as profiting from whatever dubious actions, and encouraging that action. There are very good reasons to step back from money in this context. Although on the other hand Salvation Army founder William Booth was often challenged about recieving inappropriate donations such as from a major brewery (being active temperance campaigners) or big business and is reported at various times to have commented 'Tainted money? 'T ain't enough money'  and that he would 'wash it in the tears of widows and orphans'. In contrast the Sally Army of today refused the charity funds from the final edition of News of the World.

As for the second situation - and my dilemma today - it becomes a question as to whether money is tainted by whose hands it passes. No dubious process was involved in gaining the money, no-one hurt or demeaned or worse. I am being asked to judge the giver not the money - and who of us should cast the first stone.  I don't vet who may slip a note onto the collection plate on a sunday, nor question how they came across that money.  Yet I am required to seek advice on accepting this gift - knowing the source creates the responsibilty, a need to make an assessment, to consider what being associated with you would mean, the ethical position, the conclusions drawn, the statement it would make.

But you offered it with no strings, we don't have to agree with you, or do anything for you in return.  Just as we are called to offer welcome to any and all without judgement, surely we should we willing to accept the gifts offered to us without labelling the givers as good, bad or ugly. Are any of us worthy or pure enough to bring a gift to God? And yet he welcomes us whoever we are, whatever we have done, and whatever we have to offer.  Surely we are called to echo that welcome and love - and rejecting a freely given gift because we don't agree with you doesn't seem to fit.

In the end it will not be my decision, but that of the church leadership together, and with advice from my boss. But for today it has been the pondering.

Accepting the wounded ones... wounds and all

Have you noticed how some people want  to fix everything and everybody? Sometimes you just want them to listen to your gripe of the day so you can get it out of the system, not for them to tell you how to solve the problem.

Amongst Christians this tendency to fix things/people can get spiritualised. Today I have had one of those encounters where acknowledging that I am still affected by my depression and other conditions led to the suggestion I should recieve prayer for healing.

Why do you think I need fixing? When I have been at my worst and in pain then yes, please pray for me in my pain, but I don't feel in need of fixing right now. Yes depression is still part of my life, but it is managed and although I have my moments my life is not generally impaired by it.  Removing something that has been part of my whole adult life would be like trying to take away part of my personality, part of what makes me who I am.

I realise that this is hard for you to understand, you care and want me to be free of trouble - but we don't live protected from the strains of life, we all have vulnerabilities.  Depression is one of mine, and I have come to accept myself as I am, your desire that I be fixed suggests that you don't accept me as I am, or that my vulnerability is somehow a failure. Does my ongoing situation challenge your neat faith that God brings us through all struggles so that we can sing of victory and joy, that bad times happen but get fixed. Sorry that this chipped plate is likely to stay chipped, it still works fine.

I know you would reach out in love to the wounded ones, offer love and care, but we need to be accepted wounds and all.  Even after his resurrection, with a changed and restored body, Jesus still had his wounds. He was not ashamed of them, and we should not be ashamed of ours either.

(Now I believe that God has an interest in our lives, and I believe that at times this can be expressed in ways that defy explanation (the definition of a miracle) but I also live with the tension that these times are rare and we are left wrestling with the question of suffering in this world. It may be neater to either deny that God can/will do anything personal or to believe that he will always intervene to fix things, if we can work out the right way to ask.  But the experience of people as I have observed it over the years doesn't allow for either of these, so the unknowing of the middle option is the only place left for me despite its discomfort.)

New year's resolutions

Happy New Year!

As well as schools and colleges Sept is the start of a new Methodist church year too.  This year I am starting out with a few resolutions -

1. To be organised and pro-active with the admin. Since I started I have been on the back foot, and the study disappearing under piles because I didn't have a system. At first in a new job you are not sure what system to set up to suit your way of working, and after that I was too busy fire fighting admin to get organised. 

Therefore I set aside time in August to fight the paper acculmulation, separate out the important and set up a system ready for the new outslaught.  And I am ready!!

2. To get a more healthy eating pattern. I tend to bundle through the day on snacks then realise I haven't eaten properly and end up eating a huge portion because I can't judge how much pasta etc and am hungry anyway.  I have put on nearly 2 stone in 2 years in this job, so the healthy eating includes a diet....

3. To lose enough weight to fit back into clothes. (No list of new year's resolutions is complete without this one) Being a person who likes to see quick results I am half way through a month on a meal replacement scheme (Weight to go). It is making me eat at proper times during the day, and with pre-prepped meals it is easy and lazy to get that habit established.  And very yummy meals too.  So far I have already lost a few pounds and realising how much I need to change my portion sizes.

4. To get to bed earlier. Just because I am an owl not a lark doesn't mean 2 am is ok for me, Time to shift that body clock forward and rediscover how to function in the mornings.  Not doing so well on this one, last night was in bed by 11pm but still 1am before asleep.

Basically all my resoultions are about control - being the one who is in charge of bits of my life rather than simply reacting to things around me, or the impact of lazy or bad habits. We all need to feel that at some level, having control over our lives is an aspect of freedom, and to be able to control your own inclinations and inner chaos is important for self esteem.

When my depression was at my worst I had no sense of control, emotions were just there whether I wanted to avoid crying or not, I had - or took - no control over the world around me. Stuff happens but you are not part of it or feel unable to stop the chaos, it is all so overwhelming. Like a study full of scattered papers - your life is in there but its too hard to face finding it amid the chaff.

Small successes, moments of control, are to be celebrated, resolutions made are often quickly broken, but daring to try is a huge achievement in itself.

Will my new resolutions help me through the year to come - yes I am sure they will, but that doesn't mean that the study will stay tidy.

So Happy New Year; Happy New Day.

Honesty about depression

I had the privilege that comes with this job whereby this week I was invited to speak to a group in the next town about my life and faith. Naturally this cannot be done without the story of my depression, and the other lumps and bumps in my life.

There is such power in naming the often un-nameable, it asserts that depression is just the same as any other illness we suffer, that it happens to people of faith as much as anyone else.

After the talk one person came up and said that I had described their life, parallels with depression. It is amazing to be able to have such conversations.

In a couple of weeks time there will be the first session of a group I am establishing based at one of my churches 'living with depression'.  I don't know how many will come but it seemed important to offer that place of support, in reality it is about setting up what I would have valued in my darker moments and still feel to be important now. A place to be honest about the chaos and pain, and even the lighter moments - with others who 'get it' and instead of boring family and friends yet again.

Okay so not everyone wants to air their souls in front of others, and mostly the rest of us are glad about that, but there are two needs - a) that everyone has a place to air it if they need to - be it close to home or far away and anonymous; b) that some of us bare all to show others they are not alone, and to help the unaffected understand.

I feel called to be part of both of these, and have the privelege of a role that allows that to happen.

It's always other people...

I wasn't going to blog on the riots - this isn't a social commentary or political blog, just about life with the wobbles and doing the job I do, besides there is enough cyber space taken up with all sorts of theories and opinions.

But...

I am continually being hit by the the sense that it always has to be someone else, a different type of person, not us or our folk. 

Today the government talk about an anti-gang strategy, previously suggestions that offenders should have their benefits taken away, or be cast out of council housing, before that it was a race issue. Yet my understanding was that rioters came from all walks of life. There were those who had plenty at home but still looted in the buzz of those nights, there were those with jobs, at university, with prospects, there were older and younger, there are those egged on by family and those turned in by aghast family.

Yes some may fit the young jobless gang thugs profile but what about the rest? Ah but we don't want to think that 'people like us' could get out of control like that, it stops us feeling safe in our own little corners. Just as the drug problem is something for the inner city estates - not the cosy suburbs, but it is there too just because net curtains can be drawn discretely over it doesn't take it away.

It is scary to see stuff and think that people we know, people that we pass on the street and nod a greeting to could be a part of that - easy to blame it on the distant stereotype, on those who are different, those who are the problem.  No need to consider the problems on the doorstep.

Mental health is another stigma - the manic, the schizophrenic, they all live somewhere else and are a problem, maybe even a danger. But they are also serving you coffee, queuing up at the cash point behind you, they don't have 3 heads or foaming mouths. And those of us who live with depression, who sometimes you avoid in case we infect you, we are everywhere - one day, though I wish it wouldn't, it could be you.

But if  you sleep easier by believing that the scary things in life, the bad things in life, the ability to do wrong things is always somewhere else and about somebody else - well sweet dreams, you may be one of the few whose dreams do not end up shattered. If though you are ready to face reality - then welcome to the world of the wobbly ones, who know we will be knocked down but that 'weebles wobble but they don't fall down.

And to go back to the riots - lets not just look at the communities on the news, but dare to ask about our own community, what are the issues here and now and what does that mean to us. And making a difference is not always for other people either.

The power of the finish line

Tonight my mood has lifted - a project has crossed the finish line, one of my church halls has had new flooring fitted. The planning is over, the fundraising done, and debates about the details drift into history. Yet just a few days ago when the 'oops' episodes of the planning left me in a flap the same project pressed my insecurity buttons - I had messed up some bits therefore I was a failure at this and maybe life too. But tonight we crossed the finish line, the carpet fitters left and we moved the chairs back in, stand back, take a photo, admire the end product - and feel the pride of achievement.

When I was preparing to be trained as a minister I was advised to find a hobby that had a clear end result - a finish line - because this is a job that has fuzzy edges and not a lot of clear visible results. It was good advice - and not just for ministers. So much of life has no end point - from housework to parenting, from mowing the lawn or weeding to the never ending flow of paperwork - and so we never reach that moment of stepping back to mark an achievement.

I am coming to believe in the vital importance of the finish line, the crossing off of an item on the To Do List, the milestone markers...   Pyschologically we need the opportunity to celebrate what we have done, or how far we have travelled in life. When all the attention is on the things yet to be done we can be overwhelmed, we feel small and weak compared to the demands that are being made and the challenges ahead.  That can apply to normal life, and can be felt acutely in depression.

We are climbing great mountians and are so busy struggling along or daunted by the path ahead that we don't pause to look behind and see all we have already achieved to get to here, the obstacles we have survived.  The finish line may be a way off but there are staging posts, like the Tour de France - a single race and yet also a series of daily races.

What can you celebrate at the end of a day, week, month, year? It might be something with a fancy, glossy edge to it, or it might be the power and strength of surviving. (I nearly said 'merely surviving' but the truth is there is no 'merely' about it in the tough times, it is a huge achievement).

So I will smile at the nice shiny new church hall floor and for now, for tonight, set aside the list of the unfinished. Celebrating this finish line will give me new hope and strength to face the next, believing that I can.

Depression - biochemistry or pyschology?

What is it that makes me depressed? Is it my brain chemistry or complicated pyschology or both.

When I was at my deepest darkest places I went to counselling, I was also on medication. The counselling was very important and we explored a lot of very profound things linked to my self esteem, poor self identity etc. This was complicated and painful stuff about how coping strategies from the past and emotional damage from bullying had shaped who I had become as an adult, and limited my ability to thrive.

The journey through counselling and rebuilding an alternative view of myself was a healing journey, and the person I am now is due to the release of that time.  To use a Biblical image it felt like the story of Lazarus who was raised from the dead and coming out from the cave tomb was still wrapped in the graveclothes, he had to be unwrapped to be free to move and live.

So does that mean my depression was essentially pyschological? The significance of pyschological treatment suggests this might be the case, yet medication was also important in stabilising my moods enough to go into to those dark places.

Now 3 years from that crisis point I am emotionally pretty stable, yes I live with the wobbles, and insecurities can still creep up on me but generally I can separate the emotions from the reality. The difference between what is and what isn't my personal failure etc.  However I am still on medication, and need to be. Despite the 'renewing of my mind' (more Biblical bits) through addressing my internal or 'self-talk' I still feel the deep pain of the depressive moods when they ebb and flow although I have perspective and life is going fine. Hormonal shifts add to this - the PMT effect.

Actually people around me seem to find this a hard thing to comprehend, that I can be depressed in the sense of the pain but not have the distorted self-image element of it. It does feel odd to me at times too - but this is my experience. So if the pyschology has been addressed and still the pains come and go... support for the biochemistry view?

But life is not black or white, rather it is shades of grey. Depression is the same. As a condition it plays off emotional vulnerabilities - but not all the pyschologically wounded experience depression; it does have a physical element, brian chemistry is affected and medication responds to that - but tablets alone are not enough.

For many years I coped with depression - limted by it but plodding on, assuming that was all life could.
In my crash I suffered depression - no sort of normality made sense and gettiing through a day was the greatest achievement.
These days I live with depression - I still know the shadows and soul aches it brings, but it doesn't define me or limit me.

The Black Dog is part of the family but has matured into a plodding canine who most of the time sleeps in front of the metaphorical fire, no longer the crazy puppy that was everywhere and chewing at all the precious things in life.. 

Working together - but how?

Rural churches are small and  - as discussed before - the intrastructure costs of spread out provision for all sorts of things are greater per head, the church is no different. Increasingly less clergy are more and more thinly spread. On one level it must be stressed that the church is not the clergy and have great potential without us. On the other hand the resource of people set aside and trained - not to mention called - is important.

As we are spread across wider areas, and congregations see less of us than they used to it, is easy for people to feel demoralised. At the very point there is need of their skills and confidence, there is a lack of support and encouragment time to invest in them. 

Drawing churches to work together is a way to combine talents and resources - but what is the best approach? We have two competing pulls - working with those like us, as in the Methodist circuit; or working with the other denominations in the same villlage.  There are distinct advantages for me to draw the various chapels I work with together for planning and development etc. But what when geography doesn't put them naturally together?  Working with the parish church in the village allows us to have a shared community focus - but my 6 chapels overlap with 4 different Anglican ministry teams, and their clergy have 7-8 churches of their own, so it is not easy for us to find time to meet and plan together despite the desire.

Some may say that the small churches should close and people can travel into the town to church as they do for so many other things. There is a logic to that - but Christianity is not about logic, it is about incarnation. We are church where we are - at home, at work, at the shop.....etc

Too often closures are linked to resources and finance - and become a retreat from a context. The starting question is how do we best support a Christian presence and witness in a community. There can be models where that is based in the town such as the 'minster model' - the central point resourcing believers across a wider area. But that should not be assumed. Likewise we cannot pretend the status quo watered down is going to be viable.

So is it possible to go back to the drawing board? What would faith in that community look like if we weren't starting from the structures we currently have? And how does that relate to the realities we do have?

Staffing changes - reduction - in one of the Anglican teams I work with has triggered these thoughts. There will be a significant impact on working together as the remaining team members take on the extra work, and there are the pyschological effects of the loss on the local congregations. In the same area I am aware of the aging congregation in the chapel.  We cannot put off the questions of future 'faith presence' in that village, the answers need time to emerge before we do find ourselves in a form of retreat.

'Make us Lord dreamers for your kingdom' - inspire us and grant us courage.

Endings and beginnings

This week I went to the leavers service for the CofE village school I visit for assemblies. In this 2 class school (infants in one room, juniors in the other) only one pupil was in year 6 and leaving to progress onto high school. So the end of year service for 'leavers' left him the star of the show, just as well he has acting ambitions and not daunted by the experience as classmates said what they thought of him and why he would be missed. For his turn he stood to speak about those he will miss until they too move up next year.

Later that day I was chatting to a parent of a boy leaving the high school post GSCE - they have no 6th form provision - and the debates about options and practicalities for college, what courses and how are they going to get there.  School leavers here scatter to a range of post 16 courses, but although transport costs can be applied for it struck me that the difference between the school bus winding between villages and needing to reach the routes of the regular buses is a big practical jump.

Both prompted me to look back at myself at various ages - I was on my way to university interviews when I first got the train by myself, and as for 6th form although we had a different status we were still at school, still the familiar environment. But maybe if you have been getting the minibus to school since you were 5 and stood to give your own formal farewell at 10/11 then the 16+ shift is not such a big thing. 

Then the beginnings - today was the first session of the Family Story Cafe at one of my churches. For those who know about these things it is a cross between cafe church, Godly play and messy church.  Basically parents/adults come for a coffee and space whilst children get a story and then craft time. I had in my head a target that if 3 adult/child combos came it would be a success, and that's how many came.  It would have felt good to be rushed off our feet but in reality the mixed team from different churches needed a bit of time to work together and also to get a picture of something that made sense in my head but they were still trying to grasp at a 'how will this work' level.

As always there is the nerve-wracking 'will anyone come?' moment.  As a wobbly one I am very vulnerable to past angst at these times. I guess for various reasons a lot of us are there - the fear of failure but also, for me, the potential for rejection that I tend to take personally and reaches down into childhood. Being in a leadership role in the church I still find it strange to be the initiator calling on others to come and volunteer to make things happen. This can add to the burden of 'what if they don't come' because I feel responsible for their time and commitment as well as my own disappointment.

Before my breakdown a few years ago (that long?) this wobble would be paralysing, because that led me into support and counselling now it doesn't have the same effect, it doesn't stop me taking the risks - that doesn't mean I don't wobble, I guess I always will, but this weeble wobbles but won't stay down.

And some people came, and they liked it, and they are likely to come again, and others may join them... I feel boosted by that, and so will the church who feel they have lost all contact with children and their parents.

Getting past that moment of 'will anyone come' is the end of the beginning...

All endings are new beginnings - but crossing that boundary between the two is daunting, whether for the year 6 pupil travelling on to high school or us weebles facing anything new.

Weary

Blogs are like buses - two come together!

Today I am admitting my wobbles over the past couple of weeks. I live with the shadow of chronic fatigue as well as depression. Generally I do well on activity levels, as long as I also rest a lot. Lately though I have got more and more fatigued. Despite a few days off I am still needed rest as much as possible through the day. Today I am up and dressed but other days I have dealt with emails, and planned sermons whilst still in bed. And yet I am still awake at 1am - not a good sign.

But then there is the depression - it has not come on me heavily but the 2 conditions feed off each other and I can feel the greyness and wonder how much of the inertia is depression and how much is fatigue. Sometimes it feels very clear which is which - the difference between when my body wants to but can't and when it can but doesn't want to.

I can do quite a few tasks when in this mixture of fidgety mind and weary body - but not the ones that have been piling up on the intray since this patch started.  I have studies to do as part of my role as a probationer minister, I have chosen the subject, and I am positive about getting it done, yet can't get my mind around the actual work.

Do I need to face it down with stubborness? Today I have spent in the room with my books and notes and started to think, but then had brain flop and now feel more frustated than if I had tried - I guess before I could pretend it was just tiredness, but now I know that it is the depressive kind of brain fog.

I am also finding people hard work - not good in a job that is about people! And I have been glad when people haven't been in when I called on them. The social energy is just not there at the moment, not for one to one, or if I need to lead the conversation.

Depression isn't just about those acute days, or the big breakdowns, it can be the invisible lead weight in the midst of otherwise normal life, where it looks fine to others and things are done, but they don't know how much more it cost you. The same goes for those living with constant pain or other invisible 'limps' in life.

And that's all for now, need to rest before a meeting tonight.

Why did the chicken cross the road?

...or the goose, the sheep, the rabbits and the pheasants?

You meet quite a bit of animal life on the roads around here - and I don't mean the other drivers! Though on a single track lane you have to be ready to find anyone and anything just around the next bend, from animal to a full sized combine in harvest time.

However it still makes for low stress driving compared to my time in the city, a recent trip into urban life reminded me of that. There may be greater distances in the country but we can travel 10 miles much easier than our city friends, usully quicker - unless behind the tractor.  But there are downsides too. In that urban trip I saw that in the densely populated area, with competition and plenty of customers, petrol was 5p a litre cheaper. Out here where we use more we also pay more, the same is often true with other provisons.

Village schools are important and those I have been involved with offer great education and support, they are are the heart of communities. Although now one school will serve a cluster of villages, it is still more expensive per pupil than big town primaries. One school is closing this summer, for the others survival is based on the vaguaries of the intake each year. Already many children experience the school bus from age of 4 or 5.  Without the local schools the journeys would be much longer.

Later in life long distances are travelled for hospital services, a particular struggle when regular treatment like dialysis is required. Again the cottage hospitals in smalll towns are a vital part of the community, their range may be limited but they allow people to be closer to home where friends and family can visit more easily.

Rural life is not the romantic idyll, it has as many challenges as urban life - just different. I have been here nearly 2 years, now, a choice made for me when the church posted me here. And yes you may find a chicken - or more - crossing the road, or be slowed down by a tractor ahead but as someone who grew up in the shadow of a motorway, I know which I prefer.

Time and timelords...

Yes there are big world issues that I could be blogging about but cyberspace is already overfull of the muses from both those who are wiser and those more foolish than I.

No, today my wonderings are about time... I have had a couple of days off and one of the things I have been indulging in is online episodes of the original Doctor Who series. I am following Tom Baker's Doctor and K9 through various adventures, and have the luxury of watching the 2hr stories straight through.

One day though I read a novel from start to end, and it struck me how we view supposedly 'good' and 'bad' use of time, even free time. To say to someone that you spent your day off sat in the garden reading feels acceptable, to say that you were in your dressing gown in front of the TV or equivalent conveys a totally different image - but why? Surely both are valid forms of entertainment and relaxation, yet there seems to be a moral distinction being drawn deep in our social psyche.

And are larks really better than owls? We grow up amid echoes of  'the early bird catches the worm' and the 'early to rise early to bed' mantra, this pattern is reinforced through the patterns of schooling and most jobs.  But we are not all larks. In my job I have a high level of flexibility about when a lot of things are done, especially admin and service preparation.  I am often up and working past midnight, but when in compensation I am still in bed at 10am it is perceived as lazy although I am still doing the same hours as someone who is tucked up well before Radio 4's Book at Bedtime.  This social expectation means I feel the need to open the living room curtains as I go to bed so that people don't know that I am getting up late.

We all have our own body clocks, need varying levels of rest and sleep and have different times when we are most alert and effective. Of course in a shared society we have to get used to working at set times, and fitting in with other people's needs and rhythms, but surely in our time off we could be free of the holier than thou view that rates larks above owls, readers above watchers, the busy above the restful?

But I will still open the curtains as I go to bed tonight (or should I say tomorrow morning) - still playing to the culture of expectation. The revolution waits.

A wobbly church...

So this morning I did it.

I had been wrestling for weeks about how to respond to one of my churches who appear to be suffering from a kind of group depression. Today the set reading (Matt 11 16-19, 25-30) opened the door for honesty about our weariness and burdens.

This congregation has declined significantly over the past couple of years - partly from deaths, partly from moving out of the area - whilst those that are left are feeling their age more. All of my churches are small and in small communities, this one is in a town of just 3-4000 and an area that has higher than average levels of over 60's in the population.

The congregation as a group shows the symptoms of depression - no energy or motivation, feelings of helplessness and hopelessness about the situation, constant sadness and negative emotions.  All this despite new opportunities for mission and recent experience of God's provison over a property issue.  'We played the flute for you and you did not dance'. Classic depression, a lowness so intense that the light cannot be grasped or understood.

From my own experience I know that 'cheer up look at all the good stuff' is meaningless at that stage, yet often that is what we are encouraged to do as leaders and preachers - talk up God and try to get them focussed on a project etc.  But to be honest about where they are at takes a different approach, one that gives permission to air their feelings as a church.

And so I found myself standing there sermonless, just talking about the griefs we have faced, acknowledging practical issues like finance but stating that the greater concern is our congregational mood, our depression, and that the first stage is to name it and to talk honestly about our dreams and fears. I didn't pretend to have answers, but did say I believed in the possibilities. I said that for now it was enough to say it is tough and that is the beginning of our journey.

My wobbles shaped my response, and gave an authenticity to my talking - was it the right thing to do? It's not in the books, but after weeks of wrestling I felt I should.  And so I did. What now? I have no idea, but open to God.

Before the lions...

Well I survived the time with all those teens. It was part of a pilgrimage day and I had asked to walk with them rather than just arrive at the venue - I needed to warm up to the idea of being with them, and begin to have some understanding of the people I would be talking to.

Despite lots of mental practicing - including in my sleep - I was a useless ramble at the start but then got into a flow. I explained that talking to them was hard as had a tough time when a teenager, that sure some of them find things hard too.  I took the phrase 'schooldays are the best days of your life' and unmasked it as a lie. For some they may be the worst of times, and even for those having a good time it makes it sound as if it is downhill from then when actually a whole life ahead of them.

I said that it had taken me years to get over the bullying and learn to be okay with who I am and encouraged them to use the idea of a pilgrimage space to think about who they are - not who others wish they were or they dream they could be, but who they actually are.

I explained that in all the difficulties of my journey I have had a sense of God holding me through it all. I ended with a prayer and used the Open the Book assembly wording 'I'm going to pray and if you would like to make it your prayer as well just say Amen after me' - but being teens added 'silently in your mind'!

I hadn't realised how much the teen fright would hit me in the moment - standing there with all of them, teachers, and the head!  Some were giggling but I kept going. Afterwards as they were filing out I lifted my hand and it was really shaking.

The organising teacher said that when I started she thought 'this woman hasn't a clue what she is doing' but that as I went on she felt I was spot on for the mood and the point they needed to hear. Another teacher commented about how attentive they had been, I said some had been giggly, and her response was that some of those were the ones who were listening but couldn't be seen to be.

So raw edges, not an oratorial success but relevant and good for me to have faced and survived the hurdle. Walking and talking with them gave me the chance to meet them as individuals, and eavesdropping on some of the conversations reminded me how tough it is at that age - even when not bullied.  In my teen years I was so busy surviving I didn't have time to notice how complicated a time it was for everyone else.  I wouldn't want to go back to that time and don't envy those going through it.

Back to teen angst.

Being a minister is a strange job - every day is different, this week I will be talking to a large group of yr 10 pupils of one of the local schools. It is part of their RE class and I am to talk about the spiritual life.  I could do a profound presentation on the christian spiritual tradition, but instead I am going to talk about the spiritual life of the Weeble!

Basically I have very few positive memories of being their age, I was a misfit, bullied through primary and comp. As a teenager I tried to rush into being an adult, and I am grateful for the coping strategies I developed in sealing me off. The alternative route - trying anything to be accepted - could have led me into some seriously damaging paths.

Not that my own survival plan didn't leave scars - I left the barriers up for so many years that I failed to learn how to be me or to be with others. It is only during counselling following a full depressive breakdown a few years ago that I had to dig myself out from behind the then collapsed walls.

Since then I have been a woman with a mission - to let people know it is ok to be one of the wobbly ones. We all are in some way or another at some stage in life, but because society and stigma discourage us from talking about problems that are emotional or relational we often carry things alone when we could be helping each other along.

So back to the 14/15 yr olds - my spiritual life has been shaped like the rest of me by the tough stuff in life, my faith had its ups and downs in that but at the depths I found God was there too. So that's what I want to tell them about spiritual journeys.

Welcome to a weeble's world

As my first blog entry I guess I can get away with saying almost anything because no-one knows I am here!

Why a weeble?
I had these egg shaped characters as childhood toys, specially weighted they can not fall over - or at least they don't stay down.  I remember the slogan 'Weebles wobble but they don't fall down'. I live with depression which ebbs and flows in it's own peculiar seasons, and have other wobbles too. The weeble is a positive image of survival, but an honest one too - we do wobble, and sometimes we will fall down, but that doesn't mean we always stay down.

Why 'wonderings'?
I was a curious child, always looking for the why or what behind the surface view, I was a wonderer and this blog will be a home for some of my wonderings.

So who is this weeble?
I am a 30 something female church minister working with rural British churches, I enjoy crafts and creative things, I dislike housework, lawn mowing and gardening in general. That will do for now - more will emerge as time goes on, and as I said I don't expect anyone to be listening yet!