What a Welcome : Day 1-2-3

Monsoon Ready

I walked into town this morning to pick up some last bits for our trip to Sri Lanka and take my Friday walk along the esplanade to make sure the sea is still there and all is well with the world. 

A couple of broken benches in the Sid and the ford rendered impassable served as reminders that we're about to catch the tail end of Sri Lanka's monsoon season.  

The sea was churning and wild, hurling pebbles up onto the road and sending me running to dodge the waves breaking over the sea wall. Wonderful!

Sidmouth makes me smile. 

I bought kippers from the shed on The Ham, passed a chalked up 'local brussel tops' sign in the Market Square, walked a little way with Sandra from the fish and chip shop, stocked up on peanut butter for Vikki from Verity in Ganesha, gave Ollie Salter a wave and a "morning!" on my way back up the road and met lots of people along the way to exchange a smile and a few words with. 

I'm looking forward to our holiday, but to be honest I feel a little apprehensive around the edges. Once we're on the plane I expect I'll start feeling more excited but at this moment, on a National Express coach heading for Heathrow, stuck in traffic and running 50 minutes late, it doesn't feel quite real yet. 

I'm ready for the adventure though, and looking forward to spending two weeks with my lovely Mick exploring some of the places he visited on his last trip to Sri Lanka in 1982 - just before we met. 

I've got my brolly. Bring it on!

Out of the Closet

Remember how no-one liked to admit their children had nits?  Then, almost overnight, it became okay to talk about the little blighters.  In fact it became quite the thing to share notes about the pros and cons of dousing their little heads with chemicals or using dollops of conditioner and a nit comb.  

It was such a relief to realise that you weren't that weird after all.  Battling head lice became just another accepted (although annoying) aspect of parenting.

Well.  Here's the thing.  We have moths.  

We're the kind of people who find Christmas cake under the sofa in June.  I mean, we know how the vacuum cleaner works; we use it quite often.  But we hoover around things rather than move them out and see what's lurking behind or underneath.  

Also, we have way too much stuff.  There are clothes in my wardrobe that I haven't worn for years and I'm completely rubbish at getting a grip and clearing things out.  And I love bargains, so I'm not averse to buying secondhand clothes - and I don't always wash them before putting them away.

But now we know there's a problem we're throwing stuff out, pulling out the furniture and keeping on top of our hoovering issues.  

We've had a busy weekend.  The beasties are out of the closet.  For now.  

We're facing the fact that we'll likely be finding them for years to come, but at least we know what we're dealing with and can keep a lid on the situation. And maybe one day we'll get shot of the pesky things altogether.

I'm telling you all this just in case you've noticed tiny brown moths in your home.  If you have, don't ignore them, they won't go away on their own.  In fact they'll get worse. 

Check out this site for some practical information:  The Pied Piper

1) Love God. 2) Love People.

'One of their religion scholars spoke for them, posing a question they hoped would show him up: “Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?”
Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.” (Matt 22:37-40)

Two commands.  Two pegs.  Everything hangs from them.  That's all. 

Two things have got right up my nose this week:

This little book was found by one of my loveliest friends on a park bench in Sidmouth, our home town. 

H and I worked together for twelve years.  We talked, laughed, got angry about stuff, dreamed big dreams, acted daft, listened to each other, swore a bit, talked about God now and again, and laughed a lot more. 

Five years on, we no longer see each other every day, but we're friends.  Definitely.  We love each other.

I love God.  I love H.  She doesn't love God.  She loves me.  That's all.

I suppose that whoever left that book on an empty park bench thought it was a loving thing to do.  I don't agree.  I think they'd be better off joining an evening class or a club and making some friends; people they can talk to, listen to, laugh and cry with... and talk about God with now and again too. 

I want so much for my friends to know how madly, passionately, fiercely God loves them!  He loves them.  It's good news. 

The scriptures are a huge, sweeping picture of God's intense, redeeming, costly love for his world, painted with a massive brush.  Sneaking into a park when no-one is looking to leave scary bible sound-bites for unsuspecting 'heathens' to find really gets my goat. 

Love God.  Love People.  Everything hangs on those two pegs. 

I don't really want to talk about the second thing... but it's a bit like the first thing.  That's all.

Let's pray peeps

That's how Goodreach began our prayer time yesterday evening: "Let's pray peeps".

He prayed for us to be changed by this trip, that God's miracle working power would enable us to act on what we've seen and experienced here in Kenya. Beth encouraged us to wait on God, to open up to his Holy Spirit. As we sang "there's an army rising up..." God moved.

We've seen God at work in the slums of Kibera and Mathare. We've met children with no sight but profound vision. We've encountered joy, hope, faith, breathtaking gratitude and love in dire poverty; light piercing the darkness.

When we arrived in Mathare, a small girl, probably aged about five, led a group of bigger children hand in hand, snaking around the dirt 'playground' of the slum. She held her head high as she sang. The others followed her lead, moving with the music, stepping to the pulse, the beat of their song.

God's kingdom is near... and each one of us has a part to play in bringing it in, a unique gift to share, a different and beautiful thread to weave into the picture.

He chooses to work through our hands, our feet, our voices, our dreams and visions. He is our unity. He transforms us from a random bunch of do gooders into a radical, upside down army. His is the back to front rEVOLution creation is groaning for.

Let's move together in the kingdom's rhythm. Let's step to the pulse, the heartbeat of God.

Let's pray peeps.

Kenyan friends

Gentle, kind people with beautiful smiles, warm handshakes and generous hearts. Men with God in their eyes, unafraid to put an arm around a young muzungu lad.

A people who consider themselves our harvest, and cry out for the Spirit of God to bring revival in our land.

People who live lives generous in every way, that shine with the goodness, the kindness, the love of Jesus. Women and men who like nothing better than playing football with young lads from the slums, laughing and singing with giggling girls who've been given a fresh hope, or persuading a disabled child of his immense value and worth.

Softly spoken, inspiring, loving, prayerful friends. True brothers and sisters in Christ.

The Mother of all mothers

It's Mothers' Day today and, apart from the beautiful flowers and cards from our children, not too different in our household from other Sundays.  Mick cooked as usual and his mum shared lunch with us.  I'm spoilt!
 
Before I became a mother myself I found it a difficult day, especially as a child.  I used to be embarrassed for the girls at school who asked me what I was getting for my mum, forgetting I didn't have one.  But, of course, I did have a mother once, and a very good one at that.  I thank God for her love, her care, her wisdom, her kindness and humour, her faith and her prayers for my brothers and me.

 

 This is my mother with her father on the day she married my dad.  I love her expression.  She looks full to bursting - and her dapper dad looks so proud of his daughter!
 
When I look at this photo and think of my mother, I still cry for the relationship I've lost.  I can't imagine what it would be like to have a mum after forty two years without one, but I would love life to have played out differently.  I would love to have seen Mum holding my children; watched her growing to love my husband.  And there are so many questions I'd like to ask and conversations I'd like to have with her... a hug would be good too.

Once, a dozen or so years ago, when I was overwhelmed with longing for Mum, out of the blue, I suddenly experienced the deepest sense of peace I'd ever felt.  It was a deep, velvety, dark, quiet, still peace like no other.

Mostly though, I don't cry over my motherless state, after all it's quite ordinary when you're 55... and having my own grown-up children to hug brings its own, special healing.

I know I'll see my mum again one day, and maybe my tears are partly wrapped up in a longing for that day too.  I like the idea that, as time is firmly attached to the days and nights of this world, heaven is outside time.  That means in some sense I'm already there, singing, dancing and laughing with both my parents.  I like that.

That day will bring my ultimate healing.  When I see God face to face, the God who met me out of the blue as a Mother of all mothers and Father of all fathers, the longing will be over.