I have been following this Advent Calendar challenge to name the Christmas tune hidden in Lego, and of course radios and shops have been going through the classic Christmas songs - good and bad.
'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas'
'All I want for Christmas is you'
'Last Christmas I gave you my heart'
'So here it is Merry Christmas'
A good proportion are about relationships and things going well or not and then of course there is 'Blue Christmas'. Through the Ship of Fools discussion boards I have discovered that some churches offer a 'Blue Christmas service', some hold it on 21st Dec and call it a 'Longest Night service'. The idea is to offer a space in the midst of hype and celebration for those who will find it a hard time for whatever reason. A time to be reassured that even in the darkest longest night God is with us. It is a bit late to plan it in for this year, but it seems like something the church should be offering, even for the one or two, to offer a space and sanctuary in a tinsel tossed world.
Events in Sandy Hook School in Connecticut may highlight it, but every year there are people coming to terms with empty seats at the Christmas table - like the family of the woman I will lead a funeral for early in the new year.
And yet there is a wonder at Christmas, for the last couple of years I have acquired a new singing toy in time for carol or Christmas day services. This year it is a penguin singing 'Winter wonderland' - cue for me to prepare my Christmas services around the theme of wonder, the wonder of a God who was and is prepared to muck in with the messiness of human life.
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Thursday, 20 December 2012
Saturday, 15 December 2012
Happy Stressmas...
What are we up to at Christmas? Or should I say Stressmas?
I suppose I will put some decorations up before 25th, if I get around to it. Some people love their Christmas trimmings, others put them up with a sigh of duty, just another seasonal chore. We feel obliged to put on the seasonal smile and be cheery – even when we don’t feel like it, or have nothing to smile about. Getting a card has become not a joy but a reason for panic – have I sent them one? Parents are required to create costumes and props for their darling offspring for school events – whether the children are bothered or not. (And I confess to adding to this with another Christmas competition from the church, not next year – I am learning!)
How much stress do we live through for the sake of tradition, or expectations of others? That applies all year round but is massively multiplied at Christmas. Even this year’s adverts all seem to be about the stresses of preparing for the ‘perfect Christmas’ – recognising the symptoms but still playing up to an ideal that is even less achievable than size 0 airbrushed models.
I remember being told a story of a couple, married for many years, and every Christmas dinner they had sprouts. He didn’t like sprouts but ate them to please his wife after she had gone to all the effort cooking dinner. She didn’t like sprouts and only cooked them because she thought her husband liked them – afterall he devoured them every year... If only they would talk about it – then neither of them would have to eat what they didn’t like.
What if we took the chance to say ‘Sorry, I’d rather not eat sprouts’, wear the Christmas jumper, or whatever it is, what if we risked being called Scrooge and labelled a Humbug? Maybe we will find others are only too glad to downsize the best present and perfect turkey competitions too, and be relieved that someone had the courage to challenge ‘the way things should be’.
Maybe then we can have a celebration we can actually enjoy – and that would, I think, be truer to the meaning of Christmas where a manger was good enough and visitors came as they were whether shepherd or king.
So if you want the perfect Christmas this year, perhaps it’s worth taking a moment to decide what that actually looks like for you personally, as a family etc..
Monday, 10 December 2012
The deadly joke
It must have seemed a good idea at the time - try and kid your way into access to the the big royal baby story. Not expecting to get through, and definitely not expecting a deadly result.
But the death of the nurse who answered the phone and put them through - Jacintha Saldanha - calls us all to take notice. In the track record of media pranks it was one of the milder ones, but what does it say about our society?
We are happy to tolerate jokes at others' expense but a prank on a friend who you know, and can assess how they might take it, is very different to invading the life of a stranger. Had another nurse picked up the phone that day the whole story could be very different and without the tragedy.
But we all need to be responsible for the power of our words, and that goes not just for the radio show but all who shared the story, all who added to the crowd pressure. It is one thing to feel humiliated about something that went wrong in work, another to know that people all around the world are talking about it. It may have been an extra straw in a vulnerable life - but it was one big straw bale to land.
One of the biggest lies I was told as a child is 'Sticks and stones will break your bones but names can never harm you'. I have no idea who first told me this lie, but it was just there throughout my childhood of name calling and exclusion by classmates. But it was not anything to make a fuss about - it was only names after all, I wasn't being beaten up day by day so not really bullying.... Except it was, and the power of words to reach like lasers into the deepest parts of your soul and being is worse than the stratches of mere sticks and stones. (Though they rarely come without the emotional abuse as well).
Any bully, and any who have been bullied, can know how even the apparently innocuous greeting can be imbued with layers of aggressive intimidation - but how do you report someone for saying hello to you?
Back to our radio prank, what seemed merely amusing to some, can have affects way beyond intentions - we cannot know the impact of our behaviour or words especially upon those whose lives we don't know. So we all have responsibility to take care in how we interact. We don't need to take the full responsibility for a lifetime's conditioning but we do have responsibility to keep a check on our own words and actions.
But the death of the nurse who answered the phone and put them through - Jacintha Saldanha - calls us all to take notice. In the track record of media pranks it was one of the milder ones, but what does it say about our society?
We are happy to tolerate jokes at others' expense but a prank on a friend who you know, and can assess how they might take it, is very different to invading the life of a stranger. Had another nurse picked up the phone that day the whole story could be very different and without the tragedy.
But we all need to be responsible for the power of our words, and that goes not just for the radio show but all who shared the story, all who added to the crowd pressure. It is one thing to feel humiliated about something that went wrong in work, another to know that people all around the world are talking about it. It may have been an extra straw in a vulnerable life - but it was one big straw bale to land.
One of the biggest lies I was told as a child is 'Sticks and stones will break your bones but names can never harm you'. I have no idea who first told me this lie, but it was just there throughout my childhood of name calling and exclusion by classmates. But it was not anything to make a fuss about - it was only names after all, I wasn't being beaten up day by day so not really bullying.... Except it was, and the power of words to reach like lasers into the deepest parts of your soul and being is worse than the stratches of mere sticks and stones. (Though they rarely come without the emotional abuse as well).
Any bully, and any who have been bullied, can know how even the apparently innocuous greeting can be imbued with layers of aggressive intimidation - but how do you report someone for saying hello to you?
Back to our radio prank, what seemed merely amusing to some, can have affects way beyond intentions - we cannot know the impact of our behaviour or words especially upon those whose lives we don't know. So we all have responsibility to take care in how we interact. We don't need to take the full responsibility for a lifetime's conditioning but we do have responsibility to keep a check on our own words and actions.
Saturday, 8 December 2012
New start 101 - a week on....
An update on my attempted self-reboot
Well it has been a week, and I have used my tick sheet but not qualifying for many reward stickers.
Tablets - Gold star, but was already good on that
Breakfast - total failure, :-(
Lunch - managed a couple, though to be fair Monday it was provided at my London meeting
Dinner - Silver star, all but Sunday and mostly 'real food'
And I did manage some exercise (walking in London for one) and even a couple of 20 min tidy ups.
So not straight to the top of the class, but some baby steps, and afterall a perfect first week would only leave downhill as an option.
As for sleep habits - well last night I slept so badly (between waking up and intense dreams) that I had a bad headache and have been even more dozy and useless all day. Now I am awake and able to string a sentence together - and its midnight when I'm supposed to be asleep.
Oh well, I have now done some of the things that I failed to do this morning (or yesterday morning I should say now). A useful sleep rather than a pretence would be good with church sales, Christmas Tree Festivals and Christingle services in a non stop trail over the weekend...
Well it has been a week, and I have used my tick sheet but not qualifying for many reward stickers.
Tablets - Gold star, but was already good on that
Breakfast - total failure, :-(
Lunch - managed a couple, though to be fair Monday it was provided at my London meeting
Dinner - Silver star, all but Sunday and mostly 'real food'
And I did manage some exercise (walking in London for one) and even a couple of 20 min tidy ups.
So not straight to the top of the class, but some baby steps, and afterall a perfect first week would only leave downhill as an option.
As for sleep habits - well last night I slept so badly (between waking up and intense dreams) that I had a bad headache and have been even more dozy and useless all day. Now I am awake and able to string a sentence together - and its midnight when I'm supposed to be asleep.
Oh well, I have now done some of the things that I failed to do this morning (or yesterday morning I should say now). A useful sleep rather than a pretence would be good with church sales, Christmas Tree Festivals and Christingle services in a non stop trail over the weekend...
Thursday, 6 December 2012
When your normal isn’t and doesn’t need to be
When I did my local research in the area I found that some of the villages I work in had TV before water pipes to the homes. That stopped me in my tracks, it didn’t fit that history book version of development, surely in 1960’s Britain it wasn’t normal to go and gather water from the village well? But it was normal here.
I have got used to my version of normal life – that includes low moods, fatigue and general sleepiness. It is just what being me is like, my normal even if different to yours. But what if it doesn’t have to stay that way? What if I can change my normal – just as the village changed theirs when the water pipes reached them?
For years before I crashed and came under the doctors for my depression I lived with it in a coping, adapting, this is my normal so just have to get on with it attitude. On one level fine, but it was as if the pipes went past me but I didn’t tap into the running waters that could have given me a better quality of normal.
I think I may have been doing the same thing again. I discuss my depression with the doctor, but never think to comment on my level of sleepiness. It can be linked to depression, but also could be the old Chronic Fatigue Syndrome – which doctors have had little to offer and because I can cope and adapt, then don’t make a fuss. Also it sounds like I am simply lazy so its something I haven’t discussed with anyone.
But it turns out that there is something known as Excessive Daytime Sleepiness – and there are ways to challenge it. So maybe my normal doesn’t need to stay the norm?
I don’t fall asleep all the time – but I do feel that I spend all my time trying to be awake enough. I can know what I want to do and write etc but it takes forever to boot up my brain to do it even if simple and short tasks. Then curl up for recharge afterwards. I have decided to discuss this with the doctor – maybe this is just my normal and I will continue to work around it, but what if another version of normal could be only a few honesty steps away?
Saturday, 1 December 2012
101 - and a new start, well maybe?
The builders have moved out, I am beginning to create order, the spare room has become a studio, and I have reached 100 posts - all good reasons for determining to make a fresh start in my campaign for an ordered life. But mostly because I have a urge to overcome the chaos in the house, my poor eating habits and bad bedtimes, and I don't know how long that motivation may last!
I seem to spend my life promising myself I WILL get organised....tomorrow! I have the luxury and the danger of enough space to leave piles of chaos and still function, and because I can I usually do.
Whether it is inspiration from the school visits this week, and the rewards and house points offered to encourage progress, I don't know but I have just drawn up my own version of a sticker chart. It does not ask for anything remarkable - just eating properly a couple of times a day, reasonable bedtime etc
Although more of a challenge is the aim to spend 20 mins tidying each day - in the hope that step by small step I can regain control. Trying to zap it all in one go usually fails as it is all too much and I go and hide under the duvet instead, overwhelmed, feeling a failure and not wanting to try again for quite a while.
It may all last about 24 hours, but it is still worth a try, tonight I had a proper meal for the first time in 48 hours (instead of snacks and nibbles) and tidied the dumping end of the kitchen. Balanced out with the fact that I slept from 9.30 - 2.30 .... A long Thursday of being sociable on the market was probably a bad choice of day off activity for an introvert who tires easily, and my working days having been paying for it since!
I seem to spend my life promising myself I WILL get organised....tomorrow! I have the luxury and the danger of enough space to leave piles of chaos and still function, and because I can I usually do.
Whether it is inspiration from the school visits this week, and the rewards and house points offered to encourage progress, I don't know but I have just drawn up my own version of a sticker chart. It does not ask for anything remarkable - just eating properly a couple of times a day, reasonable bedtime etc
Although more of a challenge is the aim to spend 20 mins tidying each day - in the hope that step by small step I can regain control. Trying to zap it all in one go usually fails as it is all too much and I go and hide under the duvet instead, overwhelmed, feeling a failure and not wanting to try again for quite a while.
It may all last about 24 hours, but it is still worth a try, tonight I had a proper meal for the first time in 48 hours (instead of snacks and nibbles) and tidied the dumping end of the kitchen. Balanced out with the fact that I slept from 9.30 - 2.30 .... A long Thursday of being sociable on the market was probably a bad choice of day off activity for an introvert who tires easily, and my working days having been paying for it since!
Thursday, 29 November 2012
Testing the market
First of all - 'Happy Centiposting to me, happy centiposting to me.....' Yep I have reached 100 blog posts!
Today I had a stall on Ludlow Market - Manse Crafts going fully public, beyond the safe church fairs. It was a dry day, not a common thing at the moment, and although I covered my costs it was not really the market for craft items so not the most efficient use of time and resources. But a useful lesson to learn and I did cover costs.
However a conversation with a fellow trader - meant for my learning and important because they were right and I am better off for the knowledge - pressed some old old buttons. Stupid Helen. Useless Helen. Failure Helen.
I was a good girl and reacted appropriately at the time and in all visible ways - but inside I have spent the rest of the day fighting against the inner buttons that have been firing at full power. I had thought that I had grown beyond those undermining weaknesses and felt doubly useless to find they still had such power over my emotions.
I am still feeling that low and frustration but trying to hold it in context - it is normal to feel put in one's place and some of those emotions, it is just that because I have had years of over-reaction that I see all reaction as pathological when some off it is actually just normal life.
And then I need to remember that only a few years ago I would have been unable to have stand behind a stall and banter with passers by. So on this centennial blog post I do have positive progress to report - pity that my inbuilt bias wants to dwell on the gunk, but I guess that is par for the course for a depressive.
Today I had a stall on Ludlow Market - Manse Crafts going fully public, beyond the safe church fairs. It was a dry day, not a common thing at the moment, and although I covered my costs it was not really the market for craft items so not the most efficient use of time and resources. But a useful lesson to learn and I did cover costs.
However a conversation with a fellow trader - meant for my learning and important because they were right and I am better off for the knowledge - pressed some old old buttons. Stupid Helen. Useless Helen. Failure Helen.
I was a good girl and reacted appropriately at the time and in all visible ways - but inside I have spent the rest of the day fighting against the inner buttons that have been firing at full power. I had thought that I had grown beyond those undermining weaknesses and felt doubly useless to find they still had such power over my emotions.
I am still feeling that low and frustration but trying to hold it in context - it is normal to feel put in one's place and some of those emotions, it is just that because I have had years of over-reaction that I see all reaction as pathological when some off it is actually just normal life.
And then I need to remember that only a few years ago I would have been unable to have stand behind a stall and banter with passers by. So on this centennial blog post I do have positive progress to report - pity that my inbuilt bias wants to dwell on the gunk, but I guess that is par for the course for a depressive.
Tuesday, 27 November 2012
I'm back!!
It has been a while I last blogged, it has been a tiring time, the builders have been in (taking away rotting bits of house before they fell apart themselves), the nights have drawn in and I have been just about keeping my head above water enough to get a few emotional breaths.
But this week the builders finish, today my investment project arrived (more later) and I have had a really good weekend in terms of work. Last friday I met with my new little support group and had a chance to discuss aspects of the job, and of my own guilts etc. All of which have helped lift my mood and the world feels more manageable again.
The Investment Project - last week I was getting some of my fused glass ready for the Art Festival at one of my churches this weekend, I knew I needed to get time booked at the studio to do the repeat pieces I was commissioned for when the 2nd church member saw the piece someone else had bagged. I idlely wondered how much and how far away the dream of having my own kiln would be - and several googles later it had gone from £1500 to £800 as I found one that was big enough to do all sorts of exciting things but cheap enough to run off a regular plug, and with £100 off, but limited stock.
But this week the builders finish, today my investment project arrived (more later) and I have had a really good weekend in terms of work. Last friday I met with my new little support group and had a chance to discuss aspects of the job, and of my own guilts etc. All of which have helped lift my mood and the world feels more manageable again.
The Investment Project - last week I was getting some of my fused glass ready for the Art Festival at one of my churches this weekend, I knew I needed to get time booked at the studio to do the repeat pieces I was commissioned for when the 2nd church member saw the piece someone else had bagged. I idlely wondered how much and how far away the dream of having my own kiln would be - and several googles later it had gone from £1500 to £800 as I found one that was big enough to do all sorts of exciting things but cheap enough to run off a regular plug, and with £100 off, but limited stock.
A few days of shall I shan't I - not actually having £800 - and with the offer to delay my car repayments to the Bank of Mum & Dad for a bit, I took the plunge.
With the microwave kiln, materials and tools - including now the 'real' kiln Manse Crafts has had an investment of getting on for £1500. I may need to take a bigger cost cut when selling for church funds in the future - at least til I pay this off. But it is something that gives me pleasure, enables me to be creative and fully me, and for now I feel that I am worth it. I don't have to be the perfect minister who has done all the things I should have in order to 'earn' my down time treats - even if I need reminding of that sometimes, ok lots of times!!
Anyway - I'm back! I'm positive, and I have a shiny new toy to play with, and once the builders finish I may even manage to bring some order to this place, between cardboard boxes and bits of wood....
Saturday, 10 November 2012
All Change (or not)
It has been a busy week or so for job changing and decisions. The Americans decided who would be president for the next 4 years, the new Archbishop of Canterbury was announced (and pre-announced, and pre- pre-announced!) and across Britian Methodist churches and ministers awaiting the decision of the stationing group.
Ministers have 5 year appointments and in the last year decisions are made about where they will serve next. It is possible to extend their stay, but if they are moving this is the week when they and the churches get paired up.
Many friends having been waiting for the news about where they will be from next Sept, and families too. What must it be like to hold people's lives in your hand like that? Yet every job interview is like that too, and so many other things we do affect others, maybe not as obviously or dramatically but still significantly.
The words we say, they way we react to people, shapes them. I can see that looking back at my life and you may be able to too. It means it is a huge responsibility, and yet what a power we have to affirm, encourage and strengthen others.
And as for the big decisions, well maybe the Coptic (Egyptian) Church have a point - last week they appointed a new leader by putting the shortlist of three names into a pot and had a blindfolded child make the final pick - trusting God in that process.
Ministers have 5 year appointments and in the last year decisions are made about where they will serve next. It is possible to extend their stay, but if they are moving this is the week when they and the churches get paired up.
Many friends having been waiting for the news about where they will be from next Sept, and families too. What must it be like to hold people's lives in your hand like that? Yet every job interview is like that too, and so many other things we do affect others, maybe not as obviously or dramatically but still significantly.
The words we say, they way we react to people, shapes them. I can see that looking back at my life and you may be able to too. It means it is a huge responsibility, and yet what a power we have to affirm, encourage and strengthen others.
And as for the big decisions, well maybe the Coptic (Egyptian) Church have a point - last week they appointed a new leader by putting the shortlist of three names into a pot and had a blindfolded child make the final pick - trusting God in that process.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Lord make me organised....maybe
I think it was Augustine that prayed 'Lord give me chastity ...but not yet!'
No, you are not going to get any X rated confessions. Just my musing about how many times I declare that 'I will get organised, starting from now' and completely fail...
There are enough hours in the day to do a bit more than I do if only I was organised about it. Not spending time looking for that not-filed, mis-flied bit of paper. I generally know where I last used it, but if visitors have prompted a gathering up and dump back into the study then it is open season...
Actually I am not that bad at being organised, it just feels a long time from when I was considered the team's organised person - I got rumbled when a team mate said 'you're not that organised, you just write it all down!'
But this job has lots of fuzzy edges, so add on the mix of energy and no energy moments I get as well and it is a recipe for potential chaos.
If only it was that simple!
Or maybe pigs will fly....
No, you are not going to get any X rated confessions. Just my musing about how many times I declare that 'I will get organised, starting from now' and completely fail...
There are enough hours in the day to do a bit more than I do if only I was organised about it. Not spending time looking for that not-filed, mis-flied bit of paper. I generally know where I last used it, but if visitors have prompted a gathering up and dump back into the study then it is open season...
Actually I am not that bad at being organised, it just feels a long time from when I was considered the team's organised person - I got rumbled when a team mate said 'you're not that organised, you just write it all down!'
But this job has lots of fuzzy edges, so add on the mix of energy and no energy moments I get as well and it is a recipe for potential chaos.
So every so often I declare that I WILL get organised, and this time I have extra help. No not divine intervention, but a small plate from my Nan's house clearance on her move into a home. It is 'A Round Tuit' - for years I have seen this at her house, and now it is mine, all mine... so no more excuses!! Everything I said I would do when I got a round tuit, well now I have one.
If only everything was that simple...
But back in the real world, I still need to get organised, but next week, once X and Y have come and gone, then, maybe then, I might get organised.
Friday, 26 October 2012
Lets be depressed together??
‘Birds of a feather flock together’ and yet ‘opposites attract’ – you can probably find a proverb to support any point of view. Lately I have been spending a lot of time with some others who are also dealing with depression at various levels. It has reminded me about my ideas around getting some sort of local support group for depression going in the area.
Such self-help is seen to be a benefit because it breaks down the feelings of being alone with whatever the struggles are. It enables you to talk to people who understand some of your experiences, laugh together about the weird moments, cry together about the tough times and generally have a place to be honest about how life is.
On the other hand hanging around people with the same problems as you can be a downer, if I am depressed why go to meet up with others who are as miserable as me? Afterall when it is a major struggle to get out of bed, or to get going with normal domestic life – what is going to be worth the effort it would take to get there and get involved.
What might a group get up to that would make it a welcoming space yet still offer the chance to get to know people in a similar situation? This community is too small to have a general book group and one for a specific group of people – so there doesn’t seem much point in mimicking activity focused clubs. The ideal would be for the group that forms to decide what it looks like – but how do we get that starter group together? What do you advertise as? All ideas appreciated...
Monday, 22 October 2012
The Good Samaritan - remixed...
There was a person in need, and the crowds were passing them by, sometimes on the other side, sometimes stepping right over them. Some of them would feel guilty – but it was in the moment, and quickly something else occupied their minds. Afterall they did a lot of good in other ways, they weren’t responsible for this, couldn’t be responsible for all the needs of the world. They were only human afterall.
Then the Samaritan passed by, and stopped, and picked up the one in need. Took them to the inn, but found that he didn’t have enough to pay for his care. The Samaritan wanted to help, began to help, but in the end didn’t have the means to do what he had begun to do. What does he do then?
To abandon the one who you have picked up from the roadside seems so much more of a sin than merely passing them by. In stopping, in beginning to care, the Samaritan chose to take responsibility, having picked up the buck it becomes an active decision to lay it aside.
The Samaritan sought to pass on the needy one to specialist care, but what if there was no room at the inn or the inn cost too much? What would the Samaritan do then? What if walking away having started to get involved is not an option, but finding the solution is also not an option?
And what happens next time the Samaritan passes someone in need? Will he think twice about helping? Maybe those others were not as hardhearted as they are painted, maybe they knew they had not enough to give. Afterall we are taught that to return to burning building to help someone is not good – it can end up giving the firefighters 2 casualties to rescue instead of one.
Maybe the parables are simple stories to make a point – and real life much more complicated. Maybe what looks like the right thing to do isn’t? And that goes for when you are the Samaritan and when you are a passer by.
So how do we respond to the overwhelming needs of a hurting world, yet survive ourselves – not becoming additional casualties in need of rescue? And how do we deal with the guilt of having a lot yet being too frail to reach out to those in need?
Friday, 19 October 2012
Strangers are friends not yet made...
I have guests at the moment, not people I knew personally beforehand. I have more than enough physical space in the church owned house.
What is hospitality? Sharing the bread we have, actually I get back a lot too, my overgrown garden mown, others sharing the cooking...
But there is the balance - keeping safe, as a woman alone welcoming the stranger is a serious matter, not to be done without care.
And yet -
I think back to all the times I have lived with people not of my choosing, and often strangers. From university flat allocation to when I arranged a 6 month unpaid 'job' in a church in Australia in exchange for bed and board. Actually since I was 18 I have only lived alone for 5 years, and with 4 years back at parents that leaves over a decade living with people I didn't choose, people who were strangers at first. Of course some of that was with a locked personal room but I also remember the times that people welcomed me into their homes. Ok I may have come with references, a student on a placement etc, but I was still a stranger.
And those who care about my wellbeing now were glad of the welcome I recieved in other places. Is there inconsistency there? Not really because then they worried about me going into a stranger's place, now they worry about the strangers coming to my place. Sometimes those who love you are simply born to worry.
But if by welcoming others I can pass on the grace and hospitality that I have been shown by strangers then that chain of grace can carry on.
Whilst being wise to real risks we must still dare to care.
What is hospitality? Sharing the bread we have, actually I get back a lot too, my overgrown garden mown, others sharing the cooking...
But there is the balance - keeping safe, as a woman alone welcoming the stranger is a serious matter, not to be done without care.
And yet -
I think back to all the times I have lived with people not of my choosing, and often strangers. From university flat allocation to when I arranged a 6 month unpaid 'job' in a church in Australia in exchange for bed and board. Actually since I was 18 I have only lived alone for 5 years, and with 4 years back at parents that leaves over a decade living with people I didn't choose, people who were strangers at first. Of course some of that was with a locked personal room but I also remember the times that people welcomed me into their homes. Ok I may have come with references, a student on a placement etc, but I was still a stranger.
And those who care about my wellbeing now were glad of the welcome I recieved in other places. Is there inconsistency there? Not really because then they worried about me going into a stranger's place, now they worry about the strangers coming to my place. Sometimes those who love you are simply born to worry.
But if by welcoming others I can pass on the grace and hospitality that I have been shown by strangers then that chain of grace can carry on.
Whilst being wise to real risks we must still dare to care.
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Building a new loom?
I have been bemoaning the struggle to get out of our boxed in thinking as churches, even when we try to be different it still ends up box shaped, despite the decorations that try and pretend otherwise.
In talking to a friend earlier today about these frustrations she reached for a little booklet someone had lent her only a few days before, and what she read out was so spot on that I share it here with you....
From a small booklet printed 1988 called 'In Simplicity of Prayer' by Sister Mary Clare SLG
"We must try to understand the meaning of the age in which we are called to bear witness.
We must accept the fact that this is an age in which the cloth is being unwoven.
It is therefore no good trying to patch.
We must rather set up the loom on which coming generations may weave new cloth according to the pattern God provides."
We must accept the fact that this is an age in which the cloth is being unwoven.
It is therefore no good trying to patch.
We must rather set up the loom on which coming generations may weave new cloth according to the pattern God provides."
So no wonder I am frustrated with my darning needle, and yet so far from seeing what the new pattern is - first a new loom has to be set up, different weft and weave.
Still would like the set up instructions....
And then God butted in....
A lot in my recent posts comes from very real tensions about how church is and how it needs to adapt to really scratch spiritual itches today. However there is also an element of personal angst about what it is to be a minister, to be me, in the midst of these tensions and frustrations. And as someone with depression battles from day to day to various degrees, is what I am doing worth the fight to get out of bed in the morning?
Tuesday on my day off the mood really got tough, and on the way back from the shop I went over to the parish church to pray. (It is open and isn’t full of reminders of issues and things to be done like in my own chapel). On the way out I met people looking for the vicar, basically looking for help. Real life issues. Today, I have been involved in a range of situations whereby I as minister, or just as me, have been able to do something to support people. A taste of what this is actually about.
And ok so the questions about Sunday services, and what is an authentic way of learning and growing in faith together are still there and are biggies. But today I have felt useful and doing ministry is a good antidote to the frustrations.
Beware what you ask for – you may find yourself in ‘interesting times’
Monday, 15 October 2012
Losing faith in sundays - part 2: If not that then what?
Thanks for the feedback on my last post. The logical question to ask is ‘if not that then what?’
When you look at different churches, styles and traditions of gathered worship, they are largely variations on a theme. Modern contemporary music, well aged hymns or great choral works, set liturgy or the preacher’s extempore prayers.... They are still essentially the same offering of sit, stand and listen, and I am equally frustrated by them all. It doesn’t scratch where I spiritually itch, and as a minister, supposed to help others scratch their itches, I feel I am not serving as I should, or could.
Consider the person who loves food, in all its richness and variety, and lives off nutritionally limited basics. Or the trained chef who finds themselves frustrated by the tiny budget or kitchen that means they dish up food that is so much less than it could be.
The problem is that I have always eaten this way, this is what I grew up with. I look through the window and dream of something more, but am so conditioned that I struggle to see what that looks like.
I think that is the difficulty for all who dare to think differently – how quickly the radical idea drifts back to the norm. Does that suggest that maybe thousands of years of worldwide tradition have it right? Who am I to assume I know better? Yet feedback from just the tiny group reading my last post shows I am not alone within the church, and the decline in most churches around us suggests that in this corner of the world at least plenty of others vote with their feet.
So if not that then what? I don’t know. And some will enjoy the basic diet – my Dad doesn’t want any of these ‘modern’ or ‘foreign’ foods, he wants the familiar meat and 2 veg, bangers and mash etc. As a minister serving up traditional church for those who want it, who enjoy it, is important whatever my own tastes, but what of those who want to explore more spices and flavours to there faith?
Sunday, 14 October 2012
Losing faith...
It has been creeping up on me for a very long time, but you try and ignore those niggling doubts, to get on with life and deny the cloud on the horizon. But it has been looming ever closer, and I have to face up to my loss of faith.
Not a loss of faith in God, but a loss of faith in what I do each Sunday in church. If I were not the one up the front would I want to go to traditional church? Personally I don't feel drawn into God's presence by the usual services, and I find myself wondering if everyone else feels the same?
Maybe it is the effect of being the minister, of services being work rather than personal worship. Or maybe I am merely embracing what it is to be part of my generation - not relating to a being 'talked at' culture.
I don't want to preach, I want to debate, to explore together. My training may mean that I have read more books, or heard of other ideas, that I can share - but not that I have the answers or am the definitive voice of the pulpit that others might want me to be.
I look at what I do and say on a Sunday morning and recognise that despite my efforts, and the integrity of all who make it happen week by week, it isn't going to make any sense to those who were not brought up in this strange world.
But I do have faith that faith is still relevant, that there are spiritual questions that can find a peace in Christ. But how do I make sense of that, or offer spaces to ask the questions and encounter God, when tied into the 'stand and sit, sing someone else's words and listen to someone else's ideas of what God says' way of being church?
Is this a God given discomfort to provoke me to action, or just me going through a cynical stage? The latter would be easier, it doesn't ask me to live as stranger both to the church as we know it as well as to the wider world. Easier than the uncharted waters.
Not a loss of faith in God, but a loss of faith in what I do each Sunday in church. If I were not the one up the front would I want to go to traditional church? Personally I don't feel drawn into God's presence by the usual services, and I find myself wondering if everyone else feels the same?
Maybe it is the effect of being the minister, of services being work rather than personal worship. Or maybe I am merely embracing what it is to be part of my generation - not relating to a being 'talked at' culture.
I don't want to preach, I want to debate, to explore together. My training may mean that I have read more books, or heard of other ideas, that I can share - but not that I have the answers or am the definitive voice of the pulpit that others might want me to be.
I look at what I do and say on a Sunday morning and recognise that despite my efforts, and the integrity of all who make it happen week by week, it isn't going to make any sense to those who were not brought up in this strange world.
But I do have faith that faith is still relevant, that there are spiritual questions that can find a peace in Christ. But how do I make sense of that, or offer spaces to ask the questions and encounter God, when tied into the 'stand and sit, sing someone else's words and listen to someone else's ideas of what God says' way of being church?
Is this a God given discomfort to provoke me to action, or just me going through a cynical stage? The latter would be easier, it doesn't ask me to live as stranger both to the church as we know it as well as to the wider world. Easier than the uncharted waters.
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Collecting the homework in...
Otherwise known as autumn church council season. All groups have to be accountable, and this is the time of year that methodist churches do their administrative homework - accounts, reports on property, forms for this and that.
We generally have church councils twice a year, and the autumn ones are dominated by the admin. As minister and chair of the meetings I feel like a teacher in front of a class asking them in turn to present their homework to be marked and to sum it up to the rest of the class.
And now, after the meetings, I am left to work through the pile of homework, check for any omissions, any signatures missing, etc before sending the forms on to the relevant people.
On a soggy wet night, and in areas that have had recent flood worries, it is hard to get the meeting beyond that homework mode (as we contemplate when the drive home might change into a swim and short meeting). It is necessary, it is important that we fulfil our accountability, but it is not my favourite thing and by the end of the month I will be glad to have it all over with.
We generally have church councils twice a year, and the autumn ones are dominated by the admin. As minister and chair of the meetings I feel like a teacher in front of a class asking them in turn to present their homework to be marked and to sum it up to the rest of the class.
And now, after the meetings, I am left to work through the pile of homework, check for any omissions, any signatures missing, etc before sending the forms on to the relevant people.
On a soggy wet night, and in areas that have had recent flood worries, it is hard to get the meeting beyond that homework mode (as we contemplate when the drive home might change into a swim and short meeting). It is necessary, it is important that we fulfil our accountability, but it is not my favourite thing and by the end of the month I will be glad to have it all over with.
Saturday, 6 October 2012
Let the little children come unto me....
Today I babysat. Far from a regular occurance and definitely a learning curve for me (coming in from the garden to wash mucky hands don't forget the mucky shoes!! Redecorated kitchen and hall floors!)
Tomorrow's reading for church includes the bit about Jesus telling his mates off for trying to shoo away the children. They thought they were doing good, the bloke needed a rest not being pestered by kids after all. But Jesus showed that there must always be room to welcome the children.
But would today's children dare to approach? The desperate search for April Jones in Machynlleth this week is a reminder that even small communities are not immune from danger to children and others. A session for church workers on issues of safeguarding children and vulnerable adults reinforced the issue for me this week.
I recall my father's regular response to requests to extend our freedom 'It's not that we don't trust you, but there are other people out there....' I don't recall ever having a clear sense of what the 'other people' may do but absorbed a general wariness about the dangers of the Big Wide World - in my case confirmed by the school bullies who showed that people 'out there' were a threat. How do we make a welcome but ensure safety, that is where training is so important. Not just for today's children but also for those who as children didn't speak but are still affected by a corrupt welcome and pretend care.
So to today, babysitting - enabling the family to deal with an emergency situation. What does making a child welcome include? A dash through the downstairs removing obvious hazards, being ready to change my agenda for the day (although managed to do the things needed to be done). The key thing is that for the time she was here my focus needed to be on her needs and care, getting my tasks done was a bonus.
So in the church, welcoming children of all ages means looking out for the things that might get in their way, recognising that they are there and adapting our ways of doing things to fit around them. Not that we shape everything around them, I still need to do some grown up jobs, but I needed new ways of doing them that recognised I was not home alone today.
No-one can become a parent, or take on the care of a child without drastic changes to the way things used to be - if the churches what to welcome the little children then we too must accept the changes that they bring with them. That includes children by age and those who are new to church life, whatever their stage in life.
Will we be the disciples - trying to avoid disruption; or like Jesus ready to welcome even when tired and weary, because these are important valuable people?
Tomorrow's reading for church includes the bit about Jesus telling his mates off for trying to shoo away the children. They thought they were doing good, the bloke needed a rest not being pestered by kids after all. But Jesus showed that there must always be room to welcome the children.
But would today's children dare to approach? The desperate search for April Jones in Machynlleth this week is a reminder that even small communities are not immune from danger to children and others. A session for church workers on issues of safeguarding children and vulnerable adults reinforced the issue for me this week.
I recall my father's regular response to requests to extend our freedom 'It's not that we don't trust you, but there are other people out there....' I don't recall ever having a clear sense of what the 'other people' may do but absorbed a general wariness about the dangers of the Big Wide World - in my case confirmed by the school bullies who showed that people 'out there' were a threat. How do we make a welcome but ensure safety, that is where training is so important. Not just for today's children but also for those who as children didn't speak but are still affected by a corrupt welcome and pretend care.
So to today, babysitting - enabling the family to deal with an emergency situation. What does making a child welcome include? A dash through the downstairs removing obvious hazards, being ready to change my agenda for the day (although managed to do the things needed to be done). The key thing is that for the time she was here my focus needed to be on her needs and care, getting my tasks done was a bonus.
So in the church, welcoming children of all ages means looking out for the things that might get in their way, recognising that they are there and adapting our ways of doing things to fit around them. Not that we shape everything around them, I still need to do some grown up jobs, but I needed new ways of doing them that recognised I was not home alone today.
No-one can become a parent, or take on the care of a child without drastic changes to the way things used to be - if the churches what to welcome the little children then we too must accept the changes that they bring with them. That includes children by age and those who are new to church life, whatever their stage in life.
Will we be the disciples - trying to avoid disruption; or like Jesus ready to welcome even when tired and weary, because these are important valuable people?
Saturday, 29 September 2012
Keep calm and carry on...
Why does the fear of facing something generally make it many times worse than it actually is?
So we put off the apparently scary and spend hours agonising over the guilt of the not done, when doing it takes so much less time and stress.
I have faced the overdue visits this week, and after a tough day when the guilt was overwhelming things have improved. I have confronted my fears and visited all the priority folk.
The fear really amounts to the expectation of some form of rejection for past failure. And given how much I can punish myself, someone else confirming that failure does feel as if it could tip the balance.
But in reality other people don't judge me as much as I judge myself. And if I can fight my insecurity and fears enough to prove it I may find the real them and the real me get a chance to show themselves.
At the village coffee morning on Thursday - when I forced myself there instead of the rolling over in bed finding an excuse not to face people - I found that they offered me pastoral care, I was welcomed, had been missed, and was quickly back in the heart of the community. Today I was welcomed into a home where health had worsened dramatically over my summer of neglect and greeted as if I had been there the week before.
It is frustratring to find that my insecurities can get in the way of me doing what I should - and guilt that I let them. On the other hand it can be liberating to know that the hurdles are all within me and therefore I have it within me (with God's help) to challenge them and change.
So for this week I toast the victories - over inertia and fear - and dare to believe in future successes.
So we put off the apparently scary and spend hours agonising over the guilt of the not done, when doing it takes so much less time and stress.
I have faced the overdue visits this week, and after a tough day when the guilt was overwhelming things have improved. I have confronted my fears and visited all the priority folk.
The fear really amounts to the expectation of some form of rejection for past failure. And given how much I can punish myself, someone else confirming that failure does feel as if it could tip the balance.
But in reality other people don't judge me as much as I judge myself. And if I can fight my insecurity and fears enough to prove it I may find the real them and the real me get a chance to show themselves.
At the village coffee morning on Thursday - when I forced myself there instead of the rolling over in bed finding an excuse not to face people - I found that they offered me pastoral care, I was welcomed, had been missed, and was quickly back in the heart of the community. Today I was welcomed into a home where health had worsened dramatically over my summer of neglect and greeted as if I had been there the week before.
It is frustratring to find that my insecurities can get in the way of me doing what I should - and guilt that I let them. On the other hand it can be liberating to know that the hurdles are all within me and therefore I have it within me (with God's help) to challenge them and change.
So for this week I toast the victories - over inertia and fear - and dare to believe in future successes.
Tuesday, 25 September 2012
Heads you win, tails I lose
I seem to be ploughing the same furrows at the moment, the temptation and guilt of ‘tomorrow’, facing up to tasks... Well today started with yet another failure to get going followed by a lot of phone calls to try and sort out some important stuff – which should have been done earlier.
I finally got determined enough to say that there was time to do some of the visits I had hoped to bite the bullet and do. I should I suppose being looking that as a positive thing – not using the excuse that most of the day was already written off and I have a meeting to prepare for in the evening. Instead I came back feeling worse than ever, heart aching with the reminder of why they and everyone else didn’t deserve to be sidelined.
This job is full of things that won’t get done, the difference is whether you are confident that you have done the best you could or not. And right now I don’t feel I have given my best, I think of the times when I let time seep away, when I let my inertia stop me calling in for half an hour with someone, or even just a brief phone call.
Yet I have days when I just don’t have any social energy, days when even making a phone call seems beyond me (I am a lot better than I used to be but still have a dose of phone phobia at the best of time). Or am I just using my depression as an excuse? Would I say that if it was my body more than my spirit, if it was regular migraines or sickness? And yet I know plenty of people who work despite aching arms and legs.
At what stage do you going from fighting to carry on despite the pain and deciding you need to crawl into bed and rest? And when the illness affects your decision making and motivation how can you tell which is right?
And so tonight I feel that I have let people down, and wonder if I am up to it all. Or is that just the Depression Dog barking and creating havoc?
Thursday, 20 September 2012
Why I only almost called to see you today...
Ok, so I need to confess what I am putting off until tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow...
Is it depression or just part of the range of 'normal' I don't know, but once I have failed to do something I find it so much harder to go back and begin again.
Pastoral visits are part of that. It has been a busy summer, I went off to ordination, came back to some serious issues and people that needed support in that moment. The routine visits have drifted and although I know why, and that I only have so much to offer, I still feel guilty. And I have no excuses to offer for the fact I haven't been to see you for so long, well none that I can share to explain.
All the more reason to catch up with visits now, or as soon as I can, but it is such a huge thing to step back over the threshold. There is a kernel of shame and embarrassment that I - and as a representative of the church as well - have let you down, and the next time I meet you face to face I have to confront all those emotions.
And that can feel too big to face, and so tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow...
I know it is not rational, I know that you will probably be simply glad to see me, and graciously accepting that I have a busy life (though I will know I could have called last week if I had the courage to face my guilt, and that just adds another layer).
And if I feel this way about visiting you, how many feel this way about visiting God again after so long away?
Is it depression or just part of the range of 'normal' I don't know, but once I have failed to do something I find it so much harder to go back and begin again.
Pastoral visits are part of that. It has been a busy summer, I went off to ordination, came back to some serious issues and people that needed support in that moment. The routine visits have drifted and although I know why, and that I only have so much to offer, I still feel guilty. And I have no excuses to offer for the fact I haven't been to see you for so long, well none that I can share to explain.
All the more reason to catch up with visits now, or as soon as I can, but it is such a huge thing to step back over the threshold. There is a kernel of shame and embarrassment that I - and as a representative of the church as well - have let you down, and the next time I meet you face to face I have to confront all those emotions.
And that can feel too big to face, and so tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow...
I know it is not rational, I know that you will probably be simply glad to see me, and graciously accepting that I have a busy life (though I will know I could have called last week if I had the courage to face my guilt, and that just adds another layer).
And if I feel this way about visiting you, how many feel this way about visiting God again after so long away?
The tyranny of Tomorrow
‘Tomorrow, tomorrow, I’ll love you tomorrow’ so sings orphan Annie in the musical.
Tomorrow is not a day, it is an idea. It is an excuse. I’ll do my homework tomorrow, I’ll join the gym tomorrow, the diet starts tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes, there is always another tomorrow to pass the buck to.
This week I have cleared the build up of work chaos scattered around the house and rehomed it in the study, the craft in the hobby room and rediscovered areas of floor and table around the house. It is September the start of the Methodist year and a fresh new set of paperwork and meetings to face so an ideal time to get the filing ready for a fresh start. But just like every year in the job so far I find myself promising myself that this time I really will Get Organised and not have to fight the rearguard action all the time.
Tomorrow I will be organised. Tomorrow I will be a better minister. From tomorrow I will do x, y and z that I have failed on so often before.
Tomorrow is one of those dangerous ideas, like oughts and shoulds. A mixture of guilt and a committed pledge – but one that will not be fulfilled, and because we know that we push it onto tomorrow. By doing that we pretend that we are ready to turn over a new leaf and try to put off the guilt of failure to another day.
Depression seems to swing between the horrors of yesterday (only the bad stuff gets remembered) and guilt of tomorrows needing to be faced but looking so far out of reach. Living in the moment for the moment is such a gift.
Tuesday, 18 September 2012
back in action - a week later!!
Einstein had a theory of relativity - not being a physic fan I don't understand it, however I do know the experience of time being relative. It feels a very long time since Iona although I have only been back just over a week. But then it is September, busy meeting and paperwork season for the Methodist Church.
It was wonderful to be so fully away as I was that week - not even a mobile signal so what was left behind really was left behind. The real give away was when one of the group commented on the Friday how much better I was looking than when we had first arrived. We don't necessarily notice how drained we are until we actually stop.
Though having stopped I found it took a good few days to get back into 'mainland time'. The sea air and Scottish winds did blow out the cobwebs though and when I did wake up to mainland time I was able to think beyond the last problem into looking ahead. Not always a comfortable view but important to be able to see.
Our small rural churches have a challenging year ahead as we review our mission and viability - please think of us, and I ask that all my emotional fragility will not be a burden but a help in the path ahead.
It was wonderful to be so fully away as I was that week - not even a mobile signal so what was left behind really was left behind. The real give away was when one of the group commented on the Friday how much better I was looking than when we had first arrived. We don't necessarily notice how drained we are until we actually stop.
Though having stopped I found it took a good few days to get back into 'mainland time'. The sea air and Scottish winds did blow out the cobwebs though and when I did wake up to mainland time I was able to think beyond the last problem into looking ahead. Not always a comfortable view but important to be able to see.
Our small rural churches have a challenging year ahead as we review our mission and viability - please think of us, and I ask that all my emotional fragility will not be a burden but a help in the path ahead.
Sunday, 9 September 2012
Iona 2 (Wednesday)
Yesterday I went on a long walk, I followed the pilgrimage route around part of the island but not with the organised group – I wanted to travel at my own pace, not in the crowd and to reflect and pray in my own way not as set by others. Stroppy independent miss me, or maybe just in need of my own space. I thought about the early monks travelling from Ireland in tiny boats, mere coracles in a powerful sea, a sea that casts great mounds of pebbles and stones much further inland than you might imagine on a calm day. The story is that on arriving on Iona St Columba looked back to be sure he could no longer see his homeland. There is a lot to be said for that, if we are to move on then it needs to be in a way that running back to what used to be is no longer an option – only then will we really stick out the struggles of the new place and commit ourselves to that task.
September is when Methodist ministers who have moved to new appointments always start their new roles, this year I know several who have let go of what came before and travel to the new – though not in coracles. The cycle of preparing for moves next September also begins and I have been part of the discussions about the information going out for a vacancy in our circuit. It has all set me thinking about a couple of years ahead when I will have to consider whether to move then or later.
When I first took up the role of minister here I described it as suddenly being parent to a range of very different children. Not in the sense of having the parental wisdom – more like the new parents home from hospital, babe in arms suddenly feeling all the responsibility whilst unsure if they know what they are doing! Well I have grown into the role and have made deep emotional connections with these churches and these communities – but lately so much has reminded me that I am but a foster carer. I am trusted to be the minister, a leader and guide, but only for a time. However deeply attached I feel I need to be ready to sail on to new places when the time is right. It also means that I must remember the limits of my responsibility – and not weigh myself down with burdens that are not mine to carry.
Ever since ordination this summer I have begun to think wider than the churches I travel with now, and that has freed me to recognise that my studies about faith and depression are a valid expression of my calling and not a tag along hobby. It feels unloyal at times to my current churches, but seeing a lifetime ministry not just these few years, and acknowledging that it is not for me to try and solve all the challenges of my congregations singlehanded.... well I can’t do that and it isn’t my place to.
So although not boarding a coracle yet, I am learning to hold loosely ready to let go when the call comes and trusting to God to provide for me and for those who stay.
Iona 1 (Monday)
Iona 1 (Monday)
Saturday was a long day, a very long day mostly in a small coach from Herefordshire up to the wee island of Iona. Actually the journey went well, reading my college books passed the time well enough and I would look up whenever we stopped at services surprised by how far up we had got.
Up past Loch Lomond, and across the countryside beyond the reading was set aside in favour of the views (and reading on windy roads is not as easy as on the motorway!) The ferry to Mull and a drive across it in pouring rain uncertain if the Iona ferry would be running (we had been warned it might not)followed by a rocky crossing and then we were here. Iona. The Thin Place. The place of pilgrimage and prayer.
So here I am, I worshipped at the Abbey on Sunday morning, wandered around a couple of shops in the midst of day visitors pouring on and off the ferry and after lunch sat out on the secluded shore behind the house with a novel before retreating in from the cold wind. Today I have been back to the Abbey for the historical tour.
I am enjoying the space, the retreat from normal life, and the beautiful rugged scenery – but I don’t get the wonder or awe that people claim for this place. Maybe it is the pressure of the expectations people put on this place, too much talk of sacredness attached to one particular part of God’s creation.
Come for the island beauty, come for the history – but we must look for the thin places where we are, and find the stillness in ourselves. Maybe the point of a pilgrimage is to travel far and wide to discover that God was there at home, and to return with that knowledge.
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Violence and insanity
On the news yesterday there were two contrasting items that referred to violence and questions of (in)sanity. In Norway the man who planted a bomb in Oslo and then shot down as many as he could at a political youth camp was declared sane and sentenced to prison. The trial was not about guilt - but focussed at the end on whether he was insane and therefore to go to a secure psychiatric unit, or sane and sent to general prison.
Meanwhile in Jersey a man being tried for killing of family and friends was cleared of murder and convicted of manslaughter, diminished responsibility due to depression deteriotaing into psychosis.
Without getting into either case in detail, it set me thinking about how we as society react to issues of overwhelming violence.
Whilst some may see a sentence based on 'diminished responsibility' as an easier ride, a get out clause, finding excuses, on the other hand there can be an undercurrent of wanting insanity to be part of the reason.
When something really horrific happens it can be easy to put it down to stress, pressure, insanity or even simply the heat of the moment. It removes it from the category of things a 'normal' person might do. 'She heard voices that made her do it', is reassuring because it means that all those who don't 'hear voices' aren't likely to do anything like that.
It makes all the horror part of 'something other', just as people think that bad things happen in other places. Especially the wishful thinking of rural life or nice surburbia - bad things don't happen in Ambridge, violence, murder, that is for Eastenders not The Archers. Even the recent ripples of complaints about the lastest rural plotlines show the tension between having a story to follow and the inherent heresy of challenging our idylls.
I have seen it in people's lives, when something happens to them instead of some statistical someone else suddenly the belief about our safety and security is torn to shreds. If A can happen to our family, then so could B, C, D...etc.
Living with that fear is emotionally exhausting - ask anyone who has extreme anxiety conditions. For society to continue to function, for any of us to dare to cross the road or catch a plane we need that belief that 'things happen to other people'.
And so being able to dismiss horrors as due to something that makes the killer less responsible, less human maybe, makes it easier to get through life - that normal person in the supermarket queue won't do that kind of thing. Of course that depends on our subconscious belief that we would somehow be able to tell who is a danger and who is normal - and that's a whole other blog.
Meanwhile in Jersey a man being tried for killing of family and friends was cleared of murder and convicted of manslaughter, diminished responsibility due to depression deteriotaing into psychosis.
Without getting into either case in detail, it set me thinking about how we as society react to issues of overwhelming violence.
Whilst some may see a sentence based on 'diminished responsibility' as an easier ride, a get out clause, finding excuses, on the other hand there can be an undercurrent of wanting insanity to be part of the reason.
When something really horrific happens it can be easy to put it down to stress, pressure, insanity or even simply the heat of the moment. It removes it from the category of things a 'normal' person might do. 'She heard voices that made her do it', is reassuring because it means that all those who don't 'hear voices' aren't likely to do anything like that.
It makes all the horror part of 'something other', just as people think that bad things happen in other places. Especially the wishful thinking of rural life or nice surburbia - bad things don't happen in Ambridge, violence, murder, that is for Eastenders not The Archers. Even the recent ripples of complaints about the lastest rural plotlines show the tension between having a story to follow and the inherent heresy of challenging our idylls.
I have seen it in people's lives, when something happens to them instead of some statistical someone else suddenly the belief about our safety and security is torn to shreds. If A can happen to our family, then so could B, C, D...etc.
Living with that fear is emotionally exhausting - ask anyone who has extreme anxiety conditions. For society to continue to function, for any of us to dare to cross the road or catch a plane we need that belief that 'things happen to other people'.
And so being able to dismiss horrors as due to something that makes the killer less responsible, less human maybe, makes it easier to get through life - that normal person in the supermarket queue won't do that kind of thing. Of course that depends on our subconscious belief that we would somehow be able to tell who is a danger and who is normal - and that's a whole other blog.
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
The vocation of the publican?
Apart from starting the day with a parcel from the postman (why do I always feel guilty answering in dressing gown when they have been at work since...?) it began with Radio 4, and as it drifted beyond 9 o'clock my ears pricked up at the programme about pubs. They were wandering around nearby to my patch, Shropshire/Herefordshire so I stopped to listen.
Tonight as I drove home from a meeting (in a village pub as it happens, the unofficial venue for many a community meeting) I heard the evening repeat of the same programme. It set off a range of thoughts that also relate to church life.
There are plenty of others who have commented on the confidente role of the publican and their team, as others have referred to hairdressers. They are exposed to people's raw emotions at time, the mood of the community etc. But what got my attention was one of the publicans who referred to challenge of a job with long hours, creating and maintaining a space for the community to gather, holding of confidences.
Is being a publican a community vocation? I heard issues similar to that of the churches, the importance of a place, of needing a love for the role that isn't about personal gain. Of the need to diversify yet without losing the essence of what the pub is. Of people protesting against closure of the local that they never attended when it was open.
Who are the ones who hear the heartbeat of the community, who picks up on the confessions, the pastoral tensions in the village? Who is the priest?
Or has the pub atmosphere got to me too much tonight? (Quote of the day: 'I like you, you don't take religion all serious')
Tonight as I drove home from a meeting (in a village pub as it happens, the unofficial venue for many a community meeting) I heard the evening repeat of the same programme. It set off a range of thoughts that also relate to church life.
There are plenty of others who have commented on the confidente role of the publican and their team, as others have referred to hairdressers. They are exposed to people's raw emotions at time, the mood of the community etc. But what got my attention was one of the publicans who referred to challenge of a job with long hours, creating and maintaining a space for the community to gather, holding of confidences.
Is being a publican a community vocation? I heard issues similar to that of the churches, the importance of a place, of needing a love for the role that isn't about personal gain. Of the need to diversify yet without losing the essence of what the pub is. Of people protesting against closure of the local that they never attended when it was open.
Who are the ones who hear the heartbeat of the community, who picks up on the confessions, the pastoral tensions in the village? Who is the priest?
Or has the pub atmosphere got to me too much tonight? (Quote of the day: 'I like you, you don't take religion all serious')
Tuesday, 14 August 2012
Name that Dog....
Today it is grumpy Great Dane, not a roaring or aggressive animal, but a presence that is too big to ignore and if sitting on top of you it is hard to shift and get out of bed to face the world.
Churchill made the ‘Black Dog’ euphemism for depression well known and I found the pictures of Matthew Johnstone using the image incredibly helpful back when I was at my worst. I began to refer to ‘doggy days’ when I have had tough days, but there is a huge variety of those so a friend started to ask ‘what kind of dog?’There are days when it is a little yappy dog – annoying, noisy (ideas in the head about my inadequacies) but actually small enough to control and ‘kennel’.
There are days when it is a border collie – amiable enough it seems yet somehow still controlling.
I still have occasional Rottweiler days, but also days of the calm lap dog – small enough to control, but still present.
Today though it is a grumpy Great Dane who has had its paws on my shoulders pinning me down and it has taken until now – teatime – before I achieved anything (and that is still in my dressing gown. As there was no-where I had to be I call this my day off for the week and try and catch up tomorrow. I am blessed with the freedom in this job to do that, and am thankful.
Saturday, 11 August 2012
Moving on....
This week I spent some family time at my Nan's house. She has moved into residential care and the small house needs to be cleared for sale. I came home with a share of 'useful' objects as well as some bits that are part of remembering her and Grandad specifically. We also had time with old family photos - part memories part new encounters with younger versions of family members.
At the same time a friend has been sorting and packing their house to move to a new post as a minister, and I had a conversation with another friend who has been making the decision to move next year. That and the fact the tenants in my extravagant but small purchase of a retirement flat are moving on leaving me to find new folk...
It has got me thinking about my own worldly goods, and my life as an itinerant minister. My ordination was a time when people outside of 'the system' wondered if this would mark a move to a new area. It doesn't but even with the set 3 years I have left here, if feels so brief. A reminder that the long term future of the congregations I support is in their hands (and God's!) and not mine.
I moved in nearly 3 years ago, and settled as if here for the forseeable (and 6 years will be longer than any other place I have been since 18!) But 3 years is a short time to have left, do I invest in the garden work, or begin to think of myself as a temporary resident?
'Life is a journey' and yet roots are important too. How do we balance travelling light yet daring to commit to the places where we are, and can I get my head around a possible 5 major moves ahead of me. Maybe there is a time to not look at the full journey and just at the next leg of it, I am here and need to be fully here whilst here, whether a long or short time.
At the same time a friend has been sorting and packing their house to move to a new post as a minister, and I had a conversation with another friend who has been making the decision to move next year. That and the fact the tenants in my extravagant but small purchase of a retirement flat are moving on leaving me to find new folk...
It has got me thinking about my own worldly goods, and my life as an itinerant minister. My ordination was a time when people outside of 'the system' wondered if this would mark a move to a new area. It doesn't but even with the set 3 years I have left here, if feels so brief. A reminder that the long term future of the congregations I support is in their hands (and God's!) and not mine.
I moved in nearly 3 years ago, and settled as if here for the forseeable (and 6 years will be longer than any other place I have been since 18!) But 3 years is a short time to have left, do I invest in the garden work, or begin to think of myself as a temporary resident?
'Life is a journey' and yet roots are important too. How do we balance travelling light yet daring to commit to the places where we are, and can I get my head around a possible 5 major moves ahead of me. Maybe there is a time to not look at the full journey and just at the next leg of it, I am here and need to be fully here whilst here, whether a long or short time.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
An odd but effective treatment....
Last night I had a good chat with a colleague, she had called to see how I was and that had been the main focus of the call, but then she said she had some things to mention when I was back up and running. Well you don't tell a worrier that there is something to be raised but not now - our imaginations are always worse than the reality! So I pushed for the info, to find that actually the news of work tensions was a positive to my personal wellbeing.
It sounds counter intuitive but there is a logic behind it, having slept on it. One of the most powerful emotions that overwhelm me when low is that of feeling inadequate, not up to the job, or at its worst even the role of being a grown up human being. Yet I hold these feelings in tension with a realism from the good days that I know I am more than adequate at the job of being a minister (more confident in that than in being a functioning grown up, though surely that is part of being a minister?)
A conversation about problems and issues that yes I may need to have a part of tidying up but that are not of my making was a reminder that the true comparison is not against the ideal but against equally flawed and vulnerable human beings. In that comparison I do much better than in the depressive mindset of seeking total perfection. It is a healthier perspective, and came from talking shop when poorly.
There is an infamous quote, sometimes attributed to Winston Churchill, sometimes not, about being accused of being drunk 'Yes but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly'. To paraphrase 'Yes I may be useless for a few days but in the morning I will be competent and you will still be....'
Well it worked for me last night anyway, and today I got on with some guilt free occupational therapy. Discovery of a plant on the doorstep delivered yesterday when I was hiding, and other loving caring contacts today add to the step forward.
It sounds counter intuitive but there is a logic behind it, having slept on it. One of the most powerful emotions that overwhelm me when low is that of feeling inadequate, not up to the job, or at its worst even the role of being a grown up human being. Yet I hold these feelings in tension with a realism from the good days that I know I am more than adequate at the job of being a minister (more confident in that than in being a functioning grown up, though surely that is part of being a minister?)
A conversation about problems and issues that yes I may need to have a part of tidying up but that are not of my making was a reminder that the true comparison is not against the ideal but against equally flawed and vulnerable human beings. In that comparison I do much better than in the depressive mindset of seeking total perfection. It is a healthier perspective, and came from talking shop when poorly.
There is an infamous quote, sometimes attributed to Winston Churchill, sometimes not, about being accused of being drunk 'Yes but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly'. To paraphrase 'Yes I may be useless for a few days but in the morning I will be competent and you will still be....'
Well it worked for me last night anyway, and today I got on with some guilt free occupational therapy. Discovery of a plant on the doorstep delivered yesterday when I was hiding, and other loving caring contacts today add to the step forward.
Friday, 3 August 2012
Putting on your own oxygen mask first...
... or Why I shouldn't feel guilty about things not done.
But I do. I was away for 2 weeks for ordination and the Methodist Conference, I came back tired and allowed myself a gentle week, then things blew up - important things that I needed to focus on. And so the routine visits, important but not urgent, were set aside. Then it was Holiday Club week - filling my time with prep and action. But that was last week, this week was supposed to be about catching up with people, it is Friday and I have just about managed to look after myself.
My depression has bitten back - partly a reaction to some stresses, partly because in the midst of that I foolishly missed my meds for a few days, and now experiencing the chemical dip.
It is a bit like flood watch on a sunny day - a strange feeling event in the town a couple of weeks ago when we were waiting to see if the previous weather, and pressures from upstream would overflow the riverbank, and yet it was a gloriously sunny dry day when the sandbags and defences were going up. It felt incongruous, and yet was entirely logical.
The same is true of my moods this week, I feel guilty because there isn't much to feel stressed or hassled about this week, but the effects of previous weeks still flow down the line. I feel guilty because those I need to visit have more cause to feel low than I do, and because it is not just this week, but that more than a month has passed without catching up with people that I was already overdue seeing.
I feel guilty because in my low mood I am afraid that I am going to drift into my fear of visiting, my fear of inadequacy. I have done some out and about stuff, and had the film show at one church yesterday - only the fixed expectation got me there, this afternoon I have another plus a planned baptism visit to a family afterwards. Again my mood and instinct is to go hide under the duvet, my brain is fidgety and the wider world feels too big and scary.
But I do. I was away for 2 weeks for ordination and the Methodist Conference, I came back tired and allowed myself a gentle week, then things blew up - important things that I needed to focus on. And so the routine visits, important but not urgent, were set aside. Then it was Holiday Club week - filling my time with prep and action. But that was last week, this week was supposed to be about catching up with people, it is Friday and I have just about managed to look after myself.
My depression has bitten back - partly a reaction to some stresses, partly because in the midst of that I foolishly missed my meds for a few days, and now experiencing the chemical dip.
It is a bit like flood watch on a sunny day - a strange feeling event in the town a couple of weeks ago when we were waiting to see if the previous weather, and pressures from upstream would overflow the riverbank, and yet it was a gloriously sunny dry day when the sandbags and defences were going up. It felt incongruous, and yet was entirely logical.
I feel guilty because in my low mood I am afraid that I am going to drift into my fear of visiting, my fear of inadequacy. I have done some out and about stuff, and had the film show at one church yesterday - only the fixed expectation got me there, this afternoon I have another plus a planned baptism visit to a family afterwards. Again my mood and instinct is to go hide under the duvet, my brain is fidgety and the wider world feels too big and scary.
Tuesday, 31 July 2012
Jumping but which way?
A couple of posts ago I spoke about the frogs in the garden who jumped further into the long grass to escape the mower, although the safer space was actually out in the open where my mower was not going to attack any further.
I am a frog.
Today I feel vulnerable, because of a stressful time just over a week ago when I missed several doses of meds in a row, now my levels are low and the crushing lowness and inabilibity to face the outside world is kicking in big time.
Like the frogs I want to hide in the long grass, hiding in a drink that numbs the ache, but that is no good for me in the long run. I also feel guilty that as far as my role as a minister is concerned I am well overdue a whole heap of visits to folk. I know why I have been unable to catch up with them over recent hectic weeks, but now I have the time - however I am not there in person only in body. Should I make the effort to offer the bit of me that is available, or care for myself first so that I am fit and well in future weeks? I know that it should be the latter but feel that others would expect the first and feel guilty.
Feeling guilty but hiding at home with some admin, not facing people. I did make myself turn up for a 'not-coffee' with a friend which was hard to do but worth it once there. Then I dashed into the next town for library and co-op visit. I returned to the car with relief and needing deep breaths before I could head home. Not yet ready to give to others in a visit, and managed to send email note out to church stewards to say I am off on leave next week, but fragile this week so sorry if don't get done all I should/want to.
A big step.
Maybe I can jump out into the open grass after all.
And as the meds blip passes all will be well, all manner of things will be well...
I am a frog.
Today I feel vulnerable, because of a stressful time just over a week ago when I missed several doses of meds in a row, now my levels are low and the crushing lowness and inabilibity to face the outside world is kicking in big time.
Feeling guilty but hiding at home with some admin, not facing people. I did make myself turn up for a 'not-coffee' with a friend which was hard to do but worth it once there. Then I dashed into the next town for library and co-op visit. I returned to the car with relief and needing deep breaths before I could head home. Not yet ready to give to others in a visit, and managed to send email note out to church stewards to say I am off on leave next week, but fragile this week so sorry if don't get done all I should/want to.
A big step.
Maybe I can jump out into the open grass after all.
And as the meds blip passes all will be well, all manner of things will be well...
Friday, 27 July 2012
Step by step - mowing and living
I have a theory - just like water finds its own level so does grass, where the ground dips the grass is longer giving the impression of even coverage. Today, early before the sun was too hot, I even tackled the front lawn, not as overdue and thankfully doesn't grow as fast as the back, but need to keep up appearances etc.
3 days of mowing together, or 3 days a few weeks apart when the cut is easier each time and job done? Putting off a job doesn't make it any easier, one cut instead of 3 didn't make life any less demanding. Instead it became something that was more intimidating, more overwhelming, more scary and harder to start to tackle.
In the same way when fatigue and low moods mean that I neglect care for myself - this week through some stressful situations, one about the care that ministry is about, one about the politics that it shouldn't be, I have missed meals, sleep and tablets - then I am letting the grass of life grow long, and risk the fear of being overwhelmed, or too intimidated to try.
Yet even the longest grass can be conquered in stages though overwhelming as a whole, and depressive clouds are fought step by step, pace by pace - just like my over grown back garden. And in the same way although it is finished it is also time to start again, and life annoying is like that, from mowing to washing up, to getting up each morning and facing a new day.
Long ago I put a comment up on my office wall - 'Today I can, tomorrow can wait'. Otherwise expressed as 'One day at a time dear Jesus, that's all I ask of you' and that is all he asks of us, even one hour or minute at a time if that is all we can manage.
And taking life and lawn mowing step by step is the best way to avoid being overwhelmed - and someday I may take my own advice!!
* BTW if in any doubt the bushes at the end of the garden are actually full size!
Thursday, 19 July 2012
Ants and frogs?
I mowed the back lawn, otherwise known as the meadow, the grass having reached a foot high. Correction, I have half mown the lawn - the mower jammed so often and cut out that I gave up.
I have a pond - when the the grass is low you can even get to it! The pond has frogs, and therefore so does my long grass meadow of a back lawn. When mowing the grass was moving and I would kick through it to encourage the frogs and froglets to move away from the danger. On the other hand I found in the long grass impressively tall ants' nests - and broke them and added anti-ant powder. Why the difference?
Both ants and frogs are part of nature's ecosystem, yet I seek to save one and to kill the other - why? and how did I decide one has more value that the other, at least to me? Am I simply a sucker for seeing the weak but determined froglets jumping away from the mower? Maybe. The vulnerable have a way of drawing our hearts (and I'm sorry but the ants are too small to feel for, despite watching 'A Bug's Life').
The other thing I noticed was the tendency of the frogs to jump away towards other long grass, not understanding the mower would follow them there. Whereas safety was actually in the scary openness of the section just mown/mangled. How often do we retreat into the familiar when life is tough when actually life and hope may be in the places that seem more risky and scary? And will we find the bravery to jump into the open?
I have a pond - when the the grass is low you can even get to it! The pond has frogs, and therefore so does my long grass meadow of a back lawn. When mowing the grass was moving and I would kick through it to encourage the frogs and froglets to move away from the danger. On the other hand I found in the long grass impressively tall ants' nests - and broke them and added anti-ant powder. Why the difference?
Both ants and frogs are part of nature's ecosystem, yet I seek to save one and to kill the other - why? and how did I decide one has more value that the other, at least to me? Am I simply a sucker for seeing the weak but determined froglets jumping away from the mower? Maybe. The vulnerable have a way of drawing our hearts (and I'm sorry but the ants are too small to feel for, despite watching 'A Bug's Life').
The other thing I noticed was the tendency of the frogs to jump away towards other long grass, not understanding the mower would follow them there. Whereas safety was actually in the scary openness of the section just mown/mangled. How often do we retreat into the familiar when life is tough when actually life and hope may be in the places that seem more risky and scary? And will we find the bravery to jump into the open?
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
Let's meet for a drink...
Last Friday I did something amazing, really amazing. Sorry I didn’t manage to save the world, or do something life changing for others, but it was still an amazing act – I went out socially in Birmingham, at night, on a Friday.
Ok so it wasn’t exactly riotous clubbing, but it was well outside my normal comfort zone. I had arranged to go to a gathering where I knew people very little, and that through a web forum. I lived in Brum for 2 years when in college and only once ventured into the centre after hours.
On Friday I socialised, I arrived by train ahead of time so tucked myself into a safe chain pub for food (having found their deals when at conference). In the midst of the after work drinks crowd I found a corner to settle in. In that last half hour before the planned gathering, at a real ale pub down the road, my fears crowded in. Could I talk with almost strangers socially? I mean although I do it every day with work that feels different, it is within my familiar range. Would I manage the complex etiquette of The Round when applied in a largish group? Would I be better off turning and heading for home and my duvet?
Such is my insecurity and fear of ‘not fitting in’ (which then is interpreted as failure or rejection), but I stood firm and turned up. I felt the fear and went anyway – afterall I had already spent money getting there which would be wasted if I didn’t follow through, and I can be stubborn on these matters!
I went, I settled, I even enjoyed myself. I managed to go with the flow, to be able to receive drinks from some and buy for others, to share in conversation without being any more or less odd than any other human being. I then managed to wander through town for a late night train and got myself home.
For some a Friday night out is normal, for some an occasional treat, for me it was a victory over the old insecurities.
Wednesday, 11 July 2012
Cooking and coping
Tonight I have cooked properly for the first time in about 4 weeks, ok so 2 weeks I was away in retreat and then at Methodist conference so not expected to provide for myself (half a stone in weight over that fortnight if interested!) Before that I had a manic week and relied on ready meals, then I came home from conference and once back, well between party sandwiches and cake and an empty fridge and feeling overwhelmed by the chaos I abandoned when I left... well it was junk food all round.
But Monday I brought lots of healthy fruit and veg, and today I actually cooked with some of it! Ok so the curry sauce came out of a jar and the noodles from a packet, but the meat and veg were fresh! It doesn’t really take any more time than the junk food but when the kitchen is chaotic and the sink full of 3 day old dishes, it feels too much to face.
I admit it – I need a housekeeper. My cleaning regime is to do things when either someone is coming around or I reach my own tolerance level (and it is amazing how much more tolerant it is possible to be with your own mess compared to other people’s!) I came home fresh and renewed, to face the abandoned props of an ecumenical breakfast, the church stand at Party in the Park, the quarterly marriage returns (to 4 different offices as on county borders, even if no weddings), etc etc...
 |
| My last gardening enthusiasm has produced some lovely poppies - its just I thought I had planted lily of the valley!! |
I regularly assert a fresh start, such as with the garden – only to be beaten back by relentless weed and lawn growth. Maybe after ordination, now I no longer have anything to prove about my ability to cope, I can allow myself to overcome my independent streak and miser instincts and dare to get help in whether cleaning or gardening? Won’t help my filing but I might feel less overwhelmed and able to face it.
Monday, 9 July 2012
Pause and remember
In case anyone would still claim depression is merely 'being a bit down' - a reminder that in its most severe it can be a fatal illness.
'Overwhelmed by darkness'
I am grateful for the help I have had to manage my shadows, both professional and from friends, both from medication and love.
Pray for those who have yet to seek help, and for those for whom the help seems insufficient against the shadows. For those who look on feeling powerless to help, and for those left behind.
'Overwhelmed by darkness'
I am grateful for the help I have had to manage my shadows, both professional and from friends, both from medication and love.
Pray for those who have yet to seek help, and for those for whom the help seems insufficient against the shadows. For those who look on feeling powerless to help, and for those left behind.
Its my party...
I remember an old pop song ‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to...’
Whilst not going that far, the voice of depression came to my party yesterday. A local event in the village hall to celebrate that great moment of ordination the Sunday before.
I arrived with the fear that none would come, like the childhood grief of being stood up at your own birthday party. Yet I knew of those who would be there! Such is the undermining, lying voice of self doubt.
It was a busy affair, with many people there from different churches, and some friends from far off too. There was the moment of presentation when I was given the ordination gift from my churches – a unique commissioned communion set from Marches pottery and handcrafted box to keep it safe, there was the crowd of well wishers, there was love and care from people...
And yet the cursed voice would rob me of the fullness of joy that such a moment should bring, and only whisper about those who are not there, the imperfections of my limited planning, the fear that those present were not enjoying themselves, that I .... (fill in the blank – I’m sure you can!)
But I refuse to hold onto those thoughts – I choose to remember the affirmation of ordination ‘They are worthy’, I choose to hold onto the love of those who came to the party and those who came all the way to Cornwall for the ordination.
The voice is depression but it feeds off tiredness, and I have had a long and emotional couple of weeks. In the Bible God’s response to the prophet Elijah’s depression was to have him eat and sleep. I did plenty of eating whilst away, now I need some time of sleep, then I will be able to celebrate fully and let people’s care for me seep under the skin properly.
Thursday, 5 July 2012
It is done...
(written a few days ago, but no access to post it as too lazy t o hike laptop all the way to the conference centre!)
The promises made, the hands laid on... I have been ordained.
With all the ‘I do’s the comparison with marriage is not unreasonable. On Sunday morning at the gathering of conference in worship we stood on the stage and together agreed to be committed to the church that nurtured and trained us and that church affirmed our role as ministers.
Then in the evening we were scattered in class groups to various churches for the ordination services. I was with college friends and a local colleague at Wesley Methodist Church in Camborne. Distance meant that no-one had hordes of supporters present but that made having those who did make the long journey even more special.
Having family with me was so important but also was the presence of my assisting minister* and his wife, he has been very ill and has serious treatment still to come but as a couple they have been alongside me since I was 18 through all the ups, downs and diversions of my path to be a minister, and in my journey as a fragile human being.
All that travel through life – its joys and its appalling depths – concentrated into a moment. A minute of kneeling and receiving that prayer and those hands on my head as the end of years of preparation, was it an anticlimax or a fulfilment? The moment passed quickly but the service and the day will stay with me, the moment when all present proclaimed each of us worthy to be ordained.
I am now ordained, a status that will remain with me, there is no divorce process for this set of promises. I have promised myself to God and to the church, but that is in response to God’s commitment to love me before and despite anything I do or ever did.
As an ordained minister I may be very busy doing but essentially I am called to be, so whether I am ‘employed by you or laid aside by you’ ‘I am yours and you are mine’ (quotes from the Covenant Service where Methodists reaffirm the commitment to follow God’s call).
So I am changed by being ordained? Well it is a huge landmark, especially given that I had good reason in my breakdown days to doubt I would ever get here, but ultimately I am still me, still the person God made me, just another step in fulfilling the potential of ‘life in all its fullness’ (John 10:10)
* Methodists are ordained by 3 people – someone representing the authority of the conference (President or former president), someone from the wider world church, and an assisting minister chosen by the person being ordained – someone who is significant in their journey.
Wednesday, 27 June 2012
Retreat reflections 2
Actually some of these thoughts predate reflection 1, but they also throw light on my holiday feelings too.
I am an introvert – I can do all the people stuff but it is an energy spend; I am told that an extrovert can recharge their energy by being with people, but that is outside my experience.
On the first night here I felt very disconnected and verging on the frustrated/annoyed without anything specific to link it to. Since then I have thought about it and think there are two reasons for my reactions.
Firstly I came here after a very intense people filled week, in some ways more than normal because I knew I would have a rest coming up and certain once a year mission moments landed in the same week. Yes being here is a retreat, others prepare the food, I am away from my iplayer addiction (the signal here is limited to one area of the building), change of scene etc. However I have to be up at set times for breakfast, to be sociable with folk I know from college and meet new ones. It is not a retreat from people, just a change of people – and I was people tired, and physically tired and wanted bed and aloneness. (I don’t say quiet because I like my radio and TV and don’t like total silence, but they don’t need me to respond, or pay any regard to them, they are just there).
This issue is part of my problem with ‘going away’ holidays. As a lone traveller I don’t feel the benefit that comes from shared experiences, a passing joke on something spotted etc. But to gain that would mean the energy demanding level of sociability with others on the activity, trip etc, and that is not the rest I need.
The second issue is that I am spending time with people I have not seen much, or at all, since we were in college, back when I was at my deepest depths emotionally. Although I (and they) have changed dramatically since those days it is still a strange mix. I guess part of it is that I know them, but I don’t, because I wasn’t able to relate well at that stage, yet feel I should. Then there is the element of relational reversion – eg when staying with parents as an adult you all find yourselves emotionally responding as you did before you left home. It is easier to fall into an old pattern of being than to work out a new one when time is limited. And so that first night I found being around old college friends brought a tension between the old and new versions of me at some semi-conscious level – and that too is tiring.
Today has been the silent day, I was able to go around not being sociable, I had my aloneness space and feel so much better for it.
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