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...

Step by step - mowing and living

It took 3 days in all to mow the back lawn, not all day each day of course, but a good few hours each. It was not only my effort that ran out of steam - it was the constant unjamming of the mower, and waiting for the power to return after auto cutout, every few paces in the longest patches. The mower is not designed for over-long grass, nor the damp that hid within it.

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.

I faced the hugeness of the garden challenge* by allowing myself to not conquer it all in one go, the same goes for all the stresses I face. If I can celebrate the one step and not only see the many to come, then I might be able to face each step as possible.

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!

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.