Sunday 24 February 2008

Suddenly thought I'd better put in a photo.
This is Mpira - posing, as always.

Mpira

This has to be another dog post. He has amused me so much recently, and even as I type he is here beneath the computer, lying on my feet, licking his... paws, I think. (It could be worse.)

I woke up at 3am the other day and couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up to make myself a hot drink which I then took back to Catharine's room where I wouldn't disturb Richard. I got back upstairs to find the dog curled up on her bed.

He's not allowed on the bed.

He's not allowed in the bedrooms.

He's not, technically, even allowed upstairs. Short of putting up a barbed wire gate (not practical if one gets up in the middle of the night) there's no easy way of keeping him on the ground floor, so we turn a blind eye and deaf ear to the padding of tiny paws on the staircase.

Anyway, I kicked him off. He growled at me rudely. I gave him the teacher look reserved for unruly boys, so he decided to say sorry.

'Sorry' in Mpira language means that he tries to stand on his head in front of me. He's never managed it - as the legs push harder and harder, the neck eventually collapses sideways and he ends up flat on his back, his paws flailing the air in penitence.

I accepted the apology. He settled down on the bedside rug and immediately fell asleep, snoring loudly.

His behaviour this week has ranged from charming (sitting at my side, pressing his body affectionately against my legs) to downright irritating (falling in love with another dog on a walk and following it, deaf to all entreaties to come. The only remedy is to grab him, fasten him onto the lead and yank him quickly away.)

He has also learnt a new trick. After repeated bribery, he will now 'give me five' by holding up a paw, accompanied by an anticipatory grin.

I'm now trying to teach him to dance. He already does this - but only when he wants to. I'm not too hopeful of teaching him to do it on command. Watch this space.

Friday 15 February 2008

Going the distance

I realised this week that many of my Christian friends and acquaintances come from wonderful, stable, devotedly Christian families. Some of these are truly dynastic – generation after generation in full time Christian ministry at home or overseas, in Christian publishing or other Christian companies, in extensive part-time service to the church. Mothers, fathers, siblings, uncles, aunts, grandparents, cousins...The sense of security my friends have from this is almost palpable. It’s lovely, but it makes those of us who don’t have this background feel, at times, quite inadequate.

Yet, though undoubtedly helpful in encouraging a journey towards faith, our birth circumstances do not dictate our commitment. God has no grandchildren. All of these people have had to find their own way to faith. Their families have been of enormous help to them, yet there are also many devoted Christian families whose children have found their own way in life without God, and are treading paths which seem to take them further and further away from a life with Jesus.

So it does not do to be envious of those whose life circumstances seem ideal. Life is a daily decision to follow Jesus, of love in action, not resting in the family nest. Many years ago I was a volunteer missionary in Africa, working in a poor village school. Trying to live out my life as best I could for Jesus. At the end of our time there, the girl I worked with announced her intention of joining the rat race in London and, she hoped, making a lot of money. “I’ve done my bit,” she announced proudly, “I don’t need to do any more.”

I was saddened for her. The rat race is not the race we are running when we follow after Jesus. We’ve never ‘done our bit’. As Paul says near the end of his life, in 2 Timothy 4: 7: “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” The race of life cannot be abandoned mid-way. We might – indeed, we must - take rest and refreshment along the way, but we have to keep our goal in sight. It’s as if we are running for the prize of eternal life at the same time as we are running with a leader – Jesus. In training.

I want to keep that vision fresh. And I can only do that by keeping my eyes firmly fixed on Jesus: not by looking back at my own history or around at my friends’ privileged backgrounds. I hope that when my friends look at me, they see me gazing forward – at the only One who is worth looking at.

Monday 11 February 2008

Something different - a work poem

Meetings or Teaching?

Meetings that go on, on and on
Are dreadfully boring, you know.
It’s amazing how awfully long
They can last and then cause endless woe.

I’m so bored as I sit here and fret
I’d so like to up sticks and go
Please, isn’t it time to be off yet?
Won’t someone say, so I may know?

The sun’s shining down on the grass
The flowers smell exquisitely sweet.
Oh how slowly the time’s going past
I’m dying for something to eat.

I could rush out and jump on my bike
And whizz down the hill fast and quick
I could put on my shoes for a hike
And find an ice lolly to lick.

I could go out for a coffee with friends
I could go for a swim at the beach
I’ve got quite a few letters to send
I’d really just much rather teach.

I could even get on with my marking;
Assessment for learning and stuff
Put energy into preparing:
My lessons should not be too tough.

Cause I’m really just thrilled to be teaching
I get such a buzz from the class
There’s nothing to beat that great feeling
You get from the questions they ask…

The pleasure you have when they ‘get it’
The laughter, the jokes and the fun
Seeing them smart in P.E. kit
When all of the written work’s done.

So am I just wasting my life
In a meeting that won’t ever end?
Let's put all these teachers to teaching
Some children - how's that for a trend?

Sunday 10 February 2008

Words falter and fall

Her words
Shoot out across the abyss between us
Arcing in friendliness.
I recoil, draw back, shrink away.
These rudiments of a delicate bridge
Tumble into the void
Plummeting to a messy heap below.
Too far to discern a meaning I do not want to read.

I turn away, guilty.

Words of wisdom

I've been wanting to quote the following words of wisdom all week, since I first read them, but haven't found time until now. So here they are, thanks to Francis:

"When you are justly accused of some fault that you have committed,
humble yourself very much,
confess that you deserve the accusation which is made against you.

But should the accusation be false, excuse yourself meekly, denying your guilt,
for you owe this duty to the truth and to the edification of your neighbour;

but if, after your true and legitimate excuse, they still continue to accuse you,
be not troubled and do not try to get your excuse accepted;
for after you have done your duty to the truth, you ought to do (your duty) also to humility.

In this way you will neither offend against the care which you ought to have of your good name,
nor against the affection which you owe to tranquillity, gentleness of heart, and humility.

Complain as little as possible of the wrongs which are done to you;
for it is certain that ordinarily he who complains, sins, because self-love ever makes us think the injuries greater than they really are;
but above all do not complain to such persons as are prone to wax indignant and to think evil.

But if it be expedient to make a complaint to someone, either to redress the injury, or to tranquilize your spirit, let it be made to such persons as are peaceable and love God;

for otherwise instead of easing your heart they will provoke it to still greater disquietude;
instead of removing the thorn which is pricking you, they will drive it deeper into your foot..."

This was written by Francis De Sales, bishop of Geneva, who lived between 1567 and 1622. How amazing to think that these words, written 400 years ago in 1609 (Introduction to the Devout Life), are so pertinent today.

Sunday 3 February 2008

Arrivals

What a joy to trek out to the airport this afternoon.

Our little airport - a beautiful modern building, with a viewer friendly waiting area and well planned amenities - is the equivalent of the market place. It is virtually impossible to go there and not see a friendly face. I love it.

Of course, it makes a difference that Richard flies the Trislanders for Aurigny, the Guernsey airline. He takes folk over in tiny planes to the other Channel islands of Alderney and Jersey, to Southampton in England and Dinard in France. By now, I know many of the Aurigny staff - one of them is a schoolfriend of Cat and Jonny's, eyes set on becoming a pilot. He'll do it, too.

Yet there are always other people we know as well. Departing themselves, or meeting someone else. Today, there were many parents of the boys I teach: several of the lads had been over to the UK on sports tours for the weekend. I caught up with some of the boys in my class, hearing their excited news of victory, of some games lost, of great fun had.

Fun as this was, the most important was Catharine. Home to recuperate after an emergency appendectomy. The most welcome sight through the Arrivals door. Blissful to have her back for a few days. I am so thankful.